War Torn Souls
by AbyssalBlue
Summary: After the defeat of Malefor and the restoration of the world, the dragons believed that the age after would be that of peace and a renaissance. However, this couldn't be further from the truth. A kingdom from a far off land seeks vengeance, and it's only a matter of time before this kingdom and the dragon realms clash. This is a war story, rated M for violence and foul language.
1. Prologue

**Hello, everyone! Thank you for reading this, it means a lot to me knowing that people are reading my work. As this is my first work, I would appreciate any tips and advice that you could give me. I'm hoping to write some unique stories, so keep on the lookout for updates and new stories! **

**-AbyssalBlue**

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**Originally posted: 08/05/2019**

**Edited for quality-of-life improvements: 12/20/2019**

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_Prologue_

_Song: Bad Blood – Bastille_

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The sizable kingdom of Quillum had mostly been isolationist from the rest of the world. It was not so much from policy and politics, but rather the sizeable geographic gap between continents. It was from this sizable gap — an ocean, in fact — that prevented any significant contact with the civilization of dragons to the southeast. The major exception was the occasional family clan of wind dragons that could use their magical abilities to assist them on their journey to who-knows-where. To the Quillians, this was a relief, wind dragons usually land for either rest or need for nourishment, and went on their way. With the dwindling of the nomadic wind dragons, their arrivals decreased also. This age of isolation lasted for generations, with very little input from the dragons. Malefor's war, however, had ended that quickly.

Malefor's war had brought the once-thriving far-off kingdom to its knees, killing the monarchy, and leaving the Quillians to fight among themselves rather than his emerging dark forces. It was an impressive strategic move. Why he didn't continue his path of destruction through the kingdom is a mystery that nobody can give an answer too. That was, of course, when he began his domineering quest over ten previous generations ago. Brave heroes whose names will live in legend finally defeated The Dark Master, well, sealed him away. This brought an age of peace for the dragons in the wake of his destruction. The Quillians, however, did not recover so quickly. Dragon society had the elemental guardians to look to for leadership and wisdom. Still, with the culling of the royal family, the fighting for control to the throne by close relatives and cadet branches drove the once prosperous kingdom into a dark age. Centuries passed with the kingdom fractured into various territories controlled by competing factions. The once-great kingdom was a mere memory.

This was not to be the end of this once great civilization; a dwindling flame needs only but kindling to become a roaring fire once again. This came in the form of the House of Raemes. The primary reason for nobody successfully claiming the throne was the uncertainty of legitimacy. With many people stepping forth out of the woodwork claiming to be the next true heir, there no verification. Anyone opposed would soon capitulate as the family brought forth missing royal artifacts that were last seen with the royal family during the time of Malefor's attack. This brought the kingdom back together in a renascence. It was uneasy, but an age of peace finally arrived at the newly restored to the nation. three-hundred and three years in the dark ages were now over. Resources could now be allocated to more functional needs, such as the construction of roads and bridges for horse-and-cart traffic. Towns that fell victim to sieges and battles were rebuilt and repaired, and cities began to prosper again as tradesmen travel vast distances to sell their goods to a much more appealing market. This would last for many, many years.

A peaceful existence would once again be threatened when the dark armies under the lead of Malefor would land on the shores of the kingdom. Many battles ensued, with the lack of combat experience on the part of the Quillians peace time languishing leading to repeat blunders and losses. Each encounter was a learning experience for the Quillian Royal Army, and eventual successes in battle began to turn the tides of battle. Then on one fateful day, the dark army was routed back to the ocean with the Royal Army following them every step of the way, showing no mercy to those that fell behind. They were on the verge of victory, within a half a mile from the shores. The apes that comprised the dark army's ranks were shallow-minded, and those in a command position that had some wits about them were unable to get their forces under control. There would be no surrender. The Quillians would stop if they push them back into the ocean they came from or slaughtered all of them, whichever came first. And when the sand was stained deep red could be felt under their feet, the dark master had sent the apes a relief force, not of more apes, but of dragons corrupted by his influence or willfully complied with this orders. The Quillians were so close to victory, and in a bitter irony, they were the ones being routed. This relief force was not that large, only about thirty or so. While this was not a large force, there was no doubt among the Quillians that the dragons were in orders of magnitude more combat effective than the apes ever were. The dragons attacked at random, sometimes attacking remote villages far from the front, other times attacking the royal army directly. They needed a breakthrough of some kind, and the old weapons from days gone by ordered by a paranoid ruler wouldn't be effective. If they could not get the dragons in a position that would allow the Quillians to use them, then they were as good as useless. That answer came in the form of the green gems.

The gemstones the dragons utilized had never been a common occurrence on the continent that the kingdom was situated on. Records from long ago when the wind dragons came stated that large, brittle gemstones would generate in their general vicinity. Even though the corruption of some of the dragons that Malefor sent barred them from having them generate near them (through observation), those that came willfully without corruption did have them generate near them. It was the ones that they did not break and harvest that the Quillians were able to take for themselves to study. It took countless hours by royal scholars to begin to understand the mechanisms by which they work and even more to devise methods to be able to utilize them. And it was a brewer that put for a suggestion that would give the Quillians the breakthrough that they had been desiring. It was passed forth as a joke to them, he said that it would be like making booze while laughing. Without having any previous leads on how to utilize them, they tried it. The end result was a liquid that glowed a green color, just like the gems that they used. The volunteer that drank a pint of the beverage, to the amazement and the scholars and the volunteer, had gained abilities not accessible previously: the ability to use magic. The process was soon repeated, and an entire field of study was sponsored by the House of Raemes to progress the field. It was decided that a platoon-sized group of soldiers would dabble in the arts of magic to act as a field test; if they had more gems, they could have had a larger unit.

Weeks past with the Royal Army in the field struggling against the dragons of the dark army, who have taken over the Dark Army's war effort. All the while, the platoon of magically-inclined soldiers were trying their best to train themselves in their newfound abilities. Their opportunity to test their skills in combat would come when one of the dark army's dragons was spotted flying in the direction of a sizable town, presumably for another quick raid. This town, in particular, Mystic Springs, was in the right location for the magic platoon to intercept it. They traveled hastily, arriving and staging at the outskirts of the town ahead of the flight of the dragon. They waited until it was in visual range before engaging. They were nervous that their newfound abilities would fail them, that they would be unable to stop it, and might have to fight it off with what weapons that they had on them. In the distance, they saw it approach. It was the one that was the most feared, the largest one of them. Many of the soldiers were scared, not readying themselves for what they had to do, all except for one. This one brave soldier began to charge up a simple energy ball in his hands. He waited for the dragon to get closer so that his shot would not miss. Almost as it was right over them, he threw the energy ball at the dragon. It impacted its wing near the joint connecting it to the rest of the body, and the resulting explosion ripped the limb right off. It tumbled and hit the ground hard, the soldiers now with a regained sense of confidence charged the fallen, crippled dragon. They hacked it to bits as it writhed in pain in the dirt.

Their task had been a success, they had slain their first dragon. The tides were turning. Battle after battle had been fought with more increasing success. One by one, the dark army's dragons fell by the hands of the Quillians. Having lost enough of what few dragons that Malefor had on his side, he ordered them to withdraw from the continent, and to abandon the apes that they had been tasked to back up. As if history were to repeat itself, the royal and dark army once again clashed at sea, but this time, there was no help to keep the apes from losing. They wouldn't be any other attempt to invade the continent from then on. Finally, at peace again, it was under the impression of the standing king that the dragons could no longer be seen as a neutral species, Dark Master's corruption or not. The kingdom's troubles had begun with dragons with its collapse centuries ago, the dark age that followed it, and the difficulties that it faced. As the streets of the royal city celebrated, the king of the time had begun to construct his plans that would lead the kingdom and the dragons on an inevitable collision course. Despite the losses they had received from dragons, there would be no shortage of volunteers for what's to come...

An invasion of the Dragon Realms.

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**Good god, this feels like absolute trash. It's a rough start, but its somewhere. To get some things out the way, I had to write this little prologue backstory because otherwise, the conflict in the main story would have made no sense without the poor attempt at world-building that was done here. After some time and when I get more experienced, I might write a whole story that will go into further details about the Kingdom of Quillum, because it has such a great potential to make a great story in of itself. Any questions y'all ask, I will do the best I can to answer them in the following chapters. **


	2. Peaceful Days

**Originally posted: 08/05/2019**

**Edited for continuity error correction and quality of life edits: 12/20/2019**

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_Chapter 1: Peaceful days_

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The city of Warfang had changed a lot over the past months. It was fortunate that when the world began to break apart, most of the city was spared from the fracturing. The recovery of the world would do more damage as, like the rest of the world, it was not put back together like it had been before. Instead, there was a degree of error that had come when the task of piecing something as massive as the world back together. That was not the primary issue that the master masons had been concerned with. They worried that many of the structural foundations and walls to buildings had been damaged and the progression of time, it would only be a matter of such until there would be an epidemic of structural collapses. It took many grueling hours of demolition, reconstruction, and restoration, where the damage wasn't significant enough to warrant new construction. At the center of the city, the new dragon temple was built. This one was an even bigger complex than the one previous. Here too was the abode of not only the guardians but also Spyro and Cynder.

After the defeat of Malefor by the two young dragons, their lives had simmered down. There was not much conflict in the world since their main adversary had been vanquished. With the world acting like its got some sense about it, there were not many times where they were needed to intervene. Their lives could have taken a different turn. Soon after the world's restoration, they were offered an honorary position along with the guardians, allowing them to have a world on the decisions that had to be made. They turned down the offer. They continued to live in the city without much difficulty. Anywhere they went, they would always get special treatment thanks to their actions. Meals for free, reduced prices on anything that they wanted to purchase, gifts given to them by adoring fans, and those who idolize them. Now, the attention they had gained when they went out in public had declined to where their presence was acknowledged but wasn't given much attention. Things were becoming enjoyable for them now.

They walked the echoing interiors of the dragon temple. Walking for the sake of walking. There was nothing much that could be done at the moment. They wandered from room to room, not caring where they ended up. Through the course of their trek, they made their way into the training room. It was an exact replica of the training room in the old temple, although this time, it was more abundant in its dimensions, with the giant, lowering statue in the center is replaced with one in the likeness of Spyro and Cynder. The statue had been lowered down, and the floor was in its place where the training would take place. They would have continued on with had Cynder not stopped in the center of the room.

"You know, Spyro. It has been a long while since we last had fought a battle." Cynder said. Her smooth voice echoing off the walls. Spyro stopped and turned to face her.

"It has." He responded right to the point. His amethyst eyes meeting her emerald-colored ones.

"Don't you think that it is time that we get back to doing what we did best together?"

"If that is what you want to do, sure. But the question is, what? We don't have a common adversary to fight against, and even if we do, it's nothing that would bring back the old days."

"You might be right." She sauntered towards him in an intimidating fashion. "But you forget that there is one that you've never thought of." Spyro looked at her nervously.

"And who is that?" She continued to walk up to him until both of them were face to face with one another. Her eyes peering right into his soul, he was starting to get frightened at her sudden change in demeanor. She broke eye contact with him, moving her head to the side of his and whispered:

"Me." Spyro's heart sank when she slammed into him, knocking him flat on his back. It hit him like a ton of brick what she meant and what she was intending. A broad grin formed on his face as his excitement built for the challenge that she had issued him.

"Oh, so that's how it's gonna be?" He said playfully. He reacted quickly and knocked her off the top of him. She recovered quickly and landed gracefully on the ground without as much as a single scratch. "Then show me what you got!" Both dragons proceeded to engage in mock combat with one another, exchanging physical and magical blows. Spyro being slower but having more force behind hits while Cynder delivered fast, successive blows that in their combined effect would equal that of Spyro's one. Magically speaking, both had their advantages and disadvantages that gave neither an advantage or disadvantage. This continued for several minutes until both collapsed on the floor several feet apart. Still panting, they laughed.

"You know, Cynder, I haven't felt by heart race like that in a long time," Spyro said, still on the floor. Cynder had tried to and failing to get back to her feet, flopping back on her belly.

"It makes you miss the old days when we were younger, doesn't it?"

"I have to admit, it does."

"I've been thinking as of late, how do you fancy the idea of moving out of the temple and city?" She said with genuine curiosity as she had been thinking about this for longer than she had been letting on.

"Well..." Spyro was conflicted. He did not know how to respond to the question that his lover had asked him. While he yearned for a life with more freedom, he enjoyed the conveniences of Warfang. "I'm not sure how to go about answering that question. Where would we go?"

"The wilderness somewhere. There's plenty of lands out there that we can explore and find a suitable place for us. I'm thinking somewhere in a range of mountains far from here, with plenty of room for both of us."

"I'd prefer a nice wooded area with plenty of rivers and streams. Its a contrast of what you'd be looking for, I'm sure."

"Or… we might find one that we are both satisfied with. A nice blending of both." She said optimistically. Once again, she tried to get up off the ground, and this time succeeded with her attempt, as did Spyro.

"When do you want to leave then?"

"Sooner rather than later."

"We could go out looking as soon as the weekend." It was a Monday. As much as Cynder wanted to go right away, she knew then they had the obligations that they had to attend to before they could go out on their little adventure. She nodded.

"I'll hold you to it then. Don't disappoint." She walked up to him and kissed him on the cheek. Spyro blushed. "I love you." Spyro smiled and kissed her back.

"I love you too, Cynder." Both dragons walked out of the training room and went on their way, forgetting to have Spyro use his earth breath to clean and repair the stone. Not too long after they left, the guardians walked into the training room, only to find it cracked, scorched, and eroded by various means. It was evident by assessing the different types of damage was that it was Spyro and Cynder that had been in the room last. Terrador growled. The very least that they could have done was clean up the scorch marks. Quick usage of his earth breath both cleaned and restored the stonework to its original condition. The other guardians laughed. From the door opposite of them, a cheetah walked in.

"Hunter, it is good to see you once again." Terrador boomed, his voice carried and echoed too well in the room. Hunter of Avalar, a trusted ally of the dragons, had become the official envoy of the cheetahs to the dragons. "What is it that brings you to us on this day?"

"Same to you, old friend. As for what brings me here, the cheetahs have been anxious lately. I've been told stories that many have been seeing creatures circling around the villages. They are certain that they are not dragons, saying that they are too small to be dragons but too big to be birds circling overhead." The guardians looked at each other. Even the most knowledgeable of them, Volteer, was at a complete loss. He was the first to talk back.

"I have to inquire, on how many occasions have they been observed? And how have they been flying? Knowledge of their frequency will help paint a more lucid picture."

"It's been a frequent occurrence, and we are unsure if it is the same or if it is multiple creatures. As for their flying, it seems methodical, too specific to be a random flight path."

"Well, I am positively, absolutely, undeniably certain that there is no other large aerial Animalia that possesses the ability of flight." He said in his usual motormouth manner.

"Not be too certain, Volteer," Cyril interjected. "Surely you and that brain of your had not forgotten the dreadwings that those unintelligent, uncivilized apes rode upon?" His arrogant tone only sought to make Volteer discredit Cyril further than he was already planning to do.

"If you had been paying any attention, you'd know that they have been significantly thinned ever since the defeat of Malefor. If I recall correctly, they have not been observed ever since the world had been restored by the marvelous work of Spyro." He quickly retorted. Cyril already had his mouth open ready to respond, but quickly realized that he would not win the argument in the making.

"Then what do you suppose that they are, Volteer? A figment of their imagination?" Volteer rolled his eyes.

"Clearly, we have witness reports of a new creature, or perhaps one that has done a marvelous job of avoiding our observations. If anything, we should try to have someone go out to observe them further. The more information that we possess, the better understanding that we will have of them." Volteer, despite his jabbering habits, did possess the sharpest mind. Terrador was next to speak.

"I have to agree with Volteer. If we can get observations of them, we even have the chance to apprehend and question them of its motives." He looks at Hunter. "If they fly, then they must land for rest. Do you think it possible that one of your fellow tribesmen could pursue one until it lands? That might be our chance to catch one while it is vulnerable."

"Hold on now, boys. I think that you are going about this the wrong way." A softer, higher-pitched voice said from behind the others. The other guardians craned their necks around to see the new fire guardian sitting behind them. Her name was Pyra, a younger dragon who showed great promise. With her more youthful, more vigorous, and, most importantly, compassionate nature, she had been deemed the best pick for the new fire guardian. While not as physically imposing as the other three, she was acceptation in her magical abilities. "You are going about these new creatures as if they were criminals needing to be locked up." She said in a slight, confrontational manner. Terrador sighed.

"Pyra, you have a heart of gold, but you have to understand that the world is all sunshine and rainbows." He said. "The apes were thought to have been peaceful, but look back. They have been responsible for many atrocities." Pyra was aware of the apes and their past but could read Terrador like a book. She tried to suppress a grin as she knew that her response would both lighten the mood and embarrass him.

"Oh, I'm aware of the ape's past, but how much do you know about them before Malefor? As a warrior, you see them as enemies, but I've done my homework, and if you ever were to go into a library for once in your life, you might learn that apes lived in harmony with the dragons before they pledged allegiance to Malefor." She couldn't help but giggle. Terrador's cheeks were turning a noticeably red under his green scales. The rest of the guardians and Hunter laughed out loud, not helping Terrador's situation. Volteer, in particular, was rolling on the floor, laughing uncontrollably.

"And how will this change my opinion?"

"It's not, you're too headstrong for that. But it goes to show you that just because all of your life that you perceive something as malicious doesn't always mean that it was always malicious." She giggled again. That was enough for one day. Thankfully for Terrador, this would be the last time that he would be humiliated. Hunter was quick to get back on topic.

"Anyway… I have to side with both Volteer and Terrador. We do not know their intentions and therefore have reason to be suspicious. Although, I appreciate you're more open to trust and friendship rather than distrust and hatred." He walked over to Pyra and hugged her around the neck. Everyone in the room smiled.

"Thank you, Hunter." She said happily. Volteer, Cyril, and Terrador all exchange looks and nodded as if they had been talking to one another telepathically. Volteer would be the one to close the meeting.

"Then it's settled. By the efforts of Hunter and his fellow tribesman, will attempt to apprehend and interrogate-" Pyra shot him a mean look. He backtracked quickly. "Rendezvous and inquire about their travels. On our part, we will try to intercept them in the air where, if they are compliant, we will be able to learn further about them."

"These terms are acceptable," Said Hunter. "I wish you the best of luck, and we will do all we can on our part."

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King Bevan sat on his throne, pondering the logistics of his plans before him. If this invasion was to be a success, he needed many things to go in his favor. The simple things, such as the geography of the Dragon Realms, were mostly unknown to the Quillians. He sighed. It had been twenty years ago since the dark army was defeated on Traeblesh and a few months since the world was torn asunder and mended back together. Any maps they had in archives or that any scouts that had been dispatched were made completely irrelevant, assuming that geography of the Realms had changed like Traeblesh had. He was a lucky man; however, that being one of the few significant setbacks. The world's restructuring did take its tole as well as they were not expecting it to happen, nether were the dragons when Malefor was revived. It occurred at the right time of year, with the harvest in, and there was plenty of food to go around for the population. With the world put back together, albeit not perfectly, had it happened earlier in the growing season, there was no telling if they would have survived. It was the loss of the needed able-body people that worried Bevan the most. He needed manpower. His concentration was lost when a courier walked into the throne room with a sizable sheaf of papers in his hands.

"Your majesty." He said, kneeling down before Bevan.

"Yes, good fellow. What is it that you have brought to me?" He asked in a calm voice. While he had to have the outward appearance of a stern ruler, but there was no need to intimidate the helpers that had had.

"Many things, my lord. Most of it being land deeds." Bevan rolled his eyes. Nobody could quit bickering over whose land was whose, it was getting annoying for Bevan, who was as tired of having to look at the papers, as well as the scribes who had to copy everything in the rather large and now new Book of Records. "There is something that you've been anticipating." Bevan's expression lightened.

"Go on, then, spit it out, lad."

"New maps of the Dragons Realms fresh from scouts you ordered sent out."

"Thank the gods! We are finally making progress." He exclaimed with a joyous attitude. "If we have any luck with us, not much at all would have changed."

"I hope so too, my lord." The courier began to leave the hall before wheeling right back around and walking back up to the throne. "Also, my lord, the head alchemist, requested your presence last evening, but you had retired before I could deliver the message, and I did not want to wake you from your rest." Bevan didn't mind this. It would be an excellent opportunity to get his bones to move.

"That's fine, lad, let's go see them."

The alchemist was a new asset that was at Quillum's access ever since the war against the dark army's sizable detachment had come from the Dragon Realms all the way to their continent, Traeblesh. Ever since those that drank the brew derived from the green gems, the ability to do, quite frankly magical thing, was a highly sought after trait that needed further study and refinement. The problem was that it took several pounds of green gems to get one brew for one person. With the small supply that they have left, it was often former soldiers that became alchemists in their efforts to not only understand their newfound magical abilities but also manipulate the physical world around them. Diseases once thought not treatable was now possible with the advent a new medicines due to their work, and technological advancements were made faster than ever. Bevan and the courier walked down torch-lit hallways until they reached what had been dubbed the hall of alchemists. In the alchemist's chamber, bookshelves, tables, doors leading to other rooms connected to the main hallway, various devices and machines, and iconography of increasing hedonistic and occult ideologies were littered throughout. They walked through the hall until they found themselves at another door, this time being the entrance to the office of the head alchemist, Bradan. He was a man whose physique had gradually languished over time he spent out of the army and in the book pages. He was the average when it came to height and possessed a slightly muscular build. They knocked on his door, him opening the door a few seconds later to welcome in the king and his courier.

The room had that distinctive and enjoyable smell of books and papers. Peering in further, it was clear that the ability to organize was not his most active skill as books and papers were strung across the room with books from the shelf being stacked up in seemingly random places. Bevan was not one to judge the state of Bradan's room. The vast bulk of their progress came from Bradan's mind running at one-hundred miles per hour. Rather than sitting at the desk in the center of the room, he was sprawled out on his belly in the floor, fast asleep with a quill in his hand and an inkpot turned over. Despite fountain pens being made years ago, he still preferred a feather quill. Bevan and the courier laughed out loud. Kneeling down, Bevan shook the sleeping alchemist awake. He groaned at first, barely moving from where he was before, then stretching out, running his left arm right through the puddle of spilled ink. Bevan and the courier contained their laughing this time, but barely. Bradan was unphased by it.

"Bradan, my boy, if this keeps up, we will have to build you a bed in here too!" Bevan outstretched his hand to him. He took it as Bevan lifted him off the floor.

"I'm sorry, my lord. I seem to be falling asleep more and more on the job."

"I think that you need to take it easy for a bit. I can tell that you've been working hard."

"My work is never done. It's a rabbit hole. One discovery leads to new mysteries, which, when solved, leads to new mysteries needing to be solved. To think though, this here is because we threw the dragon's green gems into a still and brewed them like the hops and barley we use to make our beers all because of a joking suggestion a brewer told us."

"Twenty years ago..."

"Yes. We've made so much progress since then, which is why I wanted you to come to see me so that you and I can discuss this in private." He looks over at the courier, who nods in understanding and leaves the room, shutting the way out. "First off, How are you doing these days? I believe that we are becoming more separated than we were back when."

"I do miss those old days when the crew and we could do whatever we wanted. Hunting, fishing, swimming, or mountain climbing, we'd do it. Of course, we grew older and acquired new responsibilities, either it is family or duty. For me, obviously, it was the heir to the throne." The reminiscing brought Bevan a sense of nostalgia, one that brought a small tear to his face.

"I miss those days too. I've got some good news." Bradan smiled widely. Bevan could tell that it was important to him with the expression on his face. "Katrine is expecting. We think that it is due sometime in February, but that's just a guess."

"Congratulations! Do you have a name for it yet?"

"If it is a girl, we think that that Winter would be a good name. If it is a boy, we think that Phillip would be a good one."

"Nice. Anyway, what is it that you wanted me to talk to you about?"

"Yes, yes." Bradan moved throughout the room, collecting various books and individual pages from the desk and the floor, ignoring the noticeable puddle of ink and miraculously avoiding it in the process. Once he gathered all the needed materials, he moved the remaining contents from the desk onto the floor. "Take a seat in that chair."

"What chair?" Bevan looked around confused as the only chair in the room was behind the desk on Bradan's side.

"Just watch this," Bradan smirked. He closed his eyes and focused his breathing. He outstretched his arm. A sea-green aura emanated from his hand and stretched up his forearm to the elbow. Books all throughout the room except for those on shelves began to stack themselves on the floor behind Bevan. Some opening and interweaving their pages together. Bevan turned his head back to notice the books were being arranged in such a way that would be a chair for him. He was thoroughly impressed. "That chair."

"I regret not drinking the green gem brew now." Bevan sat down in the chair made of books.

"There are many things that I want to discuss." He grabbed the first book of the stack on his desk and began to flip through pages before stopping in one that. "First off, with the world's destruction and the subsequent restoration of it, there has been a large amount of ambient magic about, so I've hypothesized that it was a magical force that had restored the world."

"Who do you think is responsible?"

"Well, what few magic practitioners we have surely can't do it, and since there is no current evidence that any other species can, that leaves one conclusion."

"The dragons..."

"That is the conclusion that I have come to. I believe that the inverse is true as well."

"That they destroyed it too..." Bevan said grimly as his blood began to boil. He had enough of the dragons. First Malefor in the past, the dark age that followed, and the dark army's attack and the dragons that slaughtered countless innocents. Now the destruction of the world. He knew in his heart that he shouldn't be quick to condemn them, as it was the dragons that put the world back together, but he could not forgive them for the dead. "What other developments have you made?"

"I'm glad that you asked because I was just getting there." Bradan moved the current book aside and grabbed another off the stack and opens it. This time, taking his time to read what is assumed to be the notes he has taken over the years. "We have been trying to figure out the mechanism behind how the green gems worked. My team and I have been working on a recent discovery that will give us results in the coming weeks. Once we understand how it works, we could possibly with the help of our alchemy, well, there's a lot of potentials here for future applications."

"Good to hear. Scholars have been working on it for twenty years, as much as I wish that it would have been accomplished sooner, it is great knowing that we will have some results. Anything else?"

"One more thing of note. You know how we not only have been manipulating not only the physical world around us but also the magical energy that permeates throughout as well? A small group of us had been working on something even deeper. Manipulation on the metaphysical level." Bevan looked at him with a confused look on his face.

"What do you mean by 'Metaphysical' exactly?" He asked cautiously, not wanting to downplay what he was doing, any advancement made before their war would be much appreciated, but was also not wanting to down another rabbit hole.

"Is it not obvious?" Bradan responded sarcastically. Bevan rolled his eyes. "The soul." The soul? What was he talking about?

"So, you mean to tell me that you could mess around with someone's soul?"

"That's possible. We would be treading in dangerous waters with the wrath of the gods if we did. I'm not all that concerned with it," Bradan said indifferently. Quillum was still profoundly religious; not many people would be willing to go along with what he was implying.

"So, we could find out the reason for our existence?"

"Far greater, actually. If we keep up the initial progress that we have made, we could remove it from a body, the physical vessel for it."

"So you are a soul thief now, aren't you?"

"Not necessarily. But…" He leaned in close. Bevan did the same. "We could take the soul out of a dragon's body, from there, the possibilities are endless." He said softly in his ear.

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**This seems like an excellent place to stop this chapter. For now, I will leave the appearance of the Quillians vague, leading it up to a detailed description later on in the story because "Reasons." Any and all reviews are appreciated. If you have any questions, leave them, and I will answer them in the next story update. **


	3. Visions

**Review Response:**

**To BunnyBlues: Thank you for being the first reviewer! I'm glad that you have taken an interest in my story here. First off, the Quillians are not humans. I probably should have already begun to describe what they are, I decided to save it for a reveal in a later chapter. As for why I thought that it would be something to look forward to later on. As for the occasional grammar mistake, I've tried to be more conscious of them in this chapter, but it feels like I have only made more rather than fixing them. Thanks again for the review! **

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**Originally posted: 08/22/2019**

**Edited for quality of life edits on: 12/20/2019**

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_Chapter 2: Visions_

_Song: Shadows – Red _

_suggested by BunnyBlues (SatelliteBlues now) _

* * *

Not may people had resettled back on the coast of the Dragon Realms yet. There was a combination of many reasons as to why this was. The primary reason was that there was nothing left to return to after the world had been destroyed. The restoration, while good for the world as a whole, did not help here. Many coastal cities and towns ended up underwater, and villages that relied on fishing for their primary source of food and revenue had been placed inland away for the shores. In short, it was an exodus inland where food and resources were. All of the new shoreline clean and devoid of any activity. This didn't stop two adventuring dragons from reliving a life of adventure. Spyro kept his promise to Cynder that they would go looking for land. While the coast was something that both didn't have an eye for, they inevitably made the detour for the sake of adventure and sightseeing. They had been flying for a while, landing every now and then to survey an area or for necessities such as food and water, sometimes even more fun things.

As they flew, the sun began to set, the clear blue sky began to turn from its natural blue color to various warm shades of orange and red. The sun glistens off the ocean only helped to create a beautiful scene they the two lovers could enjoy. Spyro beckoned Cynder to land, with a nod from her, they both circled their way down to a clifftop where they could watch the sun slip down below the horizon. They landed smoothly on a grassy landing ten feet from the edge of the cliff. They sat down, the grass having a subtle texture that was comfortable to sit on. They watched the sunset silently, not so much as they had nothing to say, but instead, they did not know what to say. Slowly, the sun finally slipped below the horizon. The celestial moons and the stars above coming more and more into view as their light was no longer being drowned out by the sun.

"Cynder, do you think that there is more land way out there?" Spyro asked Cynder in the open ended way. He knew that the While Isle was far out there, so the possibility was defiantly there. That was not what he was trying to get at. Not just islands, but another continent.

"This world is too big of a place for this to be all that there is." She responded back softly. "I've seen many things in my days, so I'm a firm believer in that Idea."

"What all have you seen? If you don't mind me asking."

"I don't mind now. It was during my time under Malefor's control." She still wore the silver bracers. She stared out at the ocean with an unfocused gaze, lightly rubbing the bracers on her front ankles. "I had been ordered to go to many places. There were the common places where the guardians hand been kept, obviously, but there were less common places. I do not remember that well where they are or what they were called, but I remember what they looked like. Fertile deltas, archipelagos, large canyons, the list goes on."

"You think that we might stumble across these places again?"

"It is most certainly possible, but I am unsure if I would want to stay there for long. Unlike the inhabitants of my more frequented places, I do not believe that those living there would appreciate my return, corruption, or not." Spyro understood that position. If he was in her paws, he would share the same opinion.

"I think so too."

Spyro too stared out into the horizon. It gave him time to reflect. What if he were to show up to lands that are home to his enemies, he was sure that they would not give him a warm welcome, just like those who see Cynder as an enemy. He dismissed his thoughts, wanting to cherish the small moment rather than spend it lost in thoughts. He shifted closer to Cynder, inch by inch, until right next to her. He outstretched his wing over her. She reciprocated in turn, stretching her wing under his. Together in an embrace, they watched as a sky full of stars unfold before them.

"I'm not one to go to sleep early, but I think I'll call it a day." Cynder yawned. Spyro nodded in agreement, his eyes feeling heavy.

"No objections here… Good Night, Cynder."

"Good night, Spyro." It did not take long before they both slipped into slumber. Cynder did not find her self in a dream or a nightmare, instead, in a different place altogether.

Where Cynder had found herself in what certainly felt like a dream, it looked like it too. She was lying down on the stone floor, surrounded by stone ruins of various degrees of dilapidation. The horizon gave off an ethereal feeling, with celestial bodies being able to be seen in precise detail. It was as if she had traveled to the distant place where the star resided. A slow fear began to seep into her that she might have died, and she had gone on to the next realm of existence. This fear soon subsided as a voice sounded in her mind. This startled her, this unfamiliar place, and now a mysterious voice, one that sounded familiar yet not at the same time.

"Fear not, young one. You are in no way in any danger." The voice spoke, giving off a feeling of profound wisdom and knowledge.

"Who are you? Where am I? What's the purpose of me being here?" She spoke out loud with concern. It replied back.

"I am the Chronicler, but know me by another name, but that right now does not matter, neither where you are. What matters now is what will happen soon."

"What do you mean? If you've brought me here to tell me something, just get to the point." She snapped back in a somewhat annoyed voice.

"Very well. Come, peer into the pool of visions and tell me what you see."

Cynder stood up and looked around for the pool of visions. In the ruins of this place, it took a lot longer than she would have liked to find it. When she did find it, it was in an advanced state of ruin, bringing into question its ability to hold water in it with the retaining ring containing numerous cracks. She peered down into the pool. The only thing that she could see was the bright reflection of her face. At first, no change in what she saw. Her reflection soon began to change and morph, the pool of visions bringing forth a picture. The water swirling around, colors changing, and shapes forming. All until it was finished. To put it lightly, Cynder was impressed that a simple shallow pool could do such things.

"Now, tell me what you see."

"I see..."

She described in detail what was seen. From this pool, she saw visions of a vast army marching down a road towards a dock where countless ships waited for their boarding. The details of the individual soldiers remained obscured by a lack of clarity, but what was seen, however, was the bigger picture, literally. This was clearly an army mobilizing. Although painful to recall, it brought back memories of her time as the Dark Master's general. To her benefit, it allowed her to be able to pick apart what she saw into its component bits. The infantry took up a large portion of the image. While the image depicted them in full armor and weapons bared, it was more for ceremonial purposes. Some of them armed with what she assumed were swords while others carried polearms, such as spears. Next, the cavalry behind the infantry. What animal they were mounted on was unknown to her, but that did not matter; cavalry had a nasty habit of being able to crush unsupported infantry units. These soldiers, too, had their weapons on display, a long-handled lance. Next was the artillery. Artillery in the Dark Army was a newer concept to when she was in command, but the premise was the same: to lob explosives at the enemy at a safe distance. Lastly, what could be seen, was the supporting logistical services, dozens of carts packed to the brim with supplies, presumably food and water rations for their journey. All of this gave one conclusion: a prolonged expedition.

"What you see before you is a future that will soon come to fruition. Frankly, young one, I have peered into alternate possibilities in the hopes of finding one that will avoid this, and I have found none. All I can do now is to warn those of what is to come."

"So, there is nothing that can be done to stop it?"

"I fear not. All that we can do is prepare."

Cynder was baffled. Was there really nothing that they could do? She didn't believe it, she couldn't. Her and Spyro fought and saved the world from what would have been its destruction. If they could stop the world from being destroyed, how hard could it have been to stop whatever these creatures are? She shook her head, dismissively.

"I don't believe that one bit!" Cynder yelled out angrily, "You know just as much as I do that there is nothing that we can't do. What could stop Spyro and me from going there and stopping it before it even begins?"

The voice in her mind gave an audible sigh. "Thousands of miles of ocean…"

"You're talking to a dragon who wills the wind, I'm sure that I could make it there with no problem at all." She said back indignantly.

"You genuinely plan on going there?"

"Of course, I am. The path that we are on won't change if we don't do anything to try to change it. Plus, we saved the world once, and I'd like to keep it that way" The voice didn't talk back for some time. "You might as well tell me where I can find this place because you aren't going to change my mind."

"Very well." The pool of visions shifted, the image of that army faded and in its place was a map. It showed the entirety of the realm, including landmasses that she had no previous knowledge of. The map slowly zoomed into the northern portion of the Realms, with the continent to the north remaining in view. "You are in a favorable position then." On the map, a point of blue light appeared against the sepia map. "That point on the map is where you are currently. If you wish to act, the continent to the north in the home to the army that you saw."

Given this information, Cynder was content and ready to return back to reality to face a threat before it becomes an issue for the realms as a whole. "I thank you for the information, Chronicler. I think that I'll be on my way." And like that, she began to fade from the dream world that he had made for her. As she began to awake from her sleep, the world started to fade to dark until he was no longer able to project into her dreams. Ignitus sighed. He had foreseen this. Had this been any other situation, he would have admired her willingness to fight back against an imposing threat. However, this was not a fight that she could win. The only regret that he had was that he was overcome with the inability to tell Cynder that it was him.

When Cynder awoke, she found herself several feet from Spyro. He was not one to go for sleepwalks and was a pretty sound sleeper. Another indication that something was wrong was him writhing on the ground. She began to craw over to him, allowing her to more easily understand what she initially thought was incoherent, mumbling to something different altogether. She knew what he was experiencing: a nightmare. Little to her knowledge, Spyro too got a visitor in his dreams. However, unlike the visitor in hers, someone beneficial, Spyro's, was not. And clearly, by looking at him, it was clear that whatever it was torturing him, the fear radiating out of him was hard not to notice with her powers.

All that Spyro saw was darkness, a continuous expanse of nothingness quite unending in any direction. It did not matter where he moved, it was all the same. This didn't bother him at first. In fact, it was somewhat comforting. The blackness, the quiet, the lack of any physical contact with any surface, it felt surreal. That soon changed. There was an increasingly persistent feeling that he was being watched from somewhere, and because of the darkness, he could not determine where he was being viewed from. Fear slowly began to seep into him, the intensity continuously growing.

"Spyro..." a distorted voice called out. Spyro jumped in a mix of surprise and fear. The adrenaline began to flood his system. The distorted voice sounded like that of Malefor's but different at the same time.

"Wh-who are you? Why am I here?" He called back, the fear in his voice clear to be heard.

"Don't pretend that you do not know me! You know good and well the situation that you are in." The voice snapped back aggressively. Spyro was at a loss of words. "Speechless? Let me remind you then."

The darkness flashed to a familiar sight. It was the Well of Souls the night of the Dark Master's return on the night of eternal darkness. From a different vantage point, he saw his fight with Gaul it's entirety. He couldn't watch when his darker self killed him in cold blood. He saw himself rise back to the room above, staying in the center of the beam of dark aether. At that moment, time froze, and the world faded back to black with one aspect from that event remaining: Dark Spyro and the dark aether beam. Then, Dark Spyro dropped down from the beam and glared right at him.

"Now you see it, don't you?" Dark Spyro growled. "You may think that I am a part of you, a dangerous thing that can be avoided by vigilance alone, but I can assure you are greatly mistaken!" He began to creep towards Spyro menacingly. As he got closer, a broad, unnatural grin began creeping up his face.

"Get back!" Spyro yelled, attempting to blast Dark Spyro with flames, but only managing spray embers and smoke. Dark Spyro only laughed and continued to approach him. That laugh… it was bloodcurdling.

"That tickled a bit. Let me return the favor." Dark Spyro unleashed a blast of dark aether. Unlike Spyro's attempt to blast the twisted version of himself, Dark Spyro was entirely able to perform the breath attack.

Spyro screamed in agony. When the breath attack ended, he collapsed on the nonexistent floor. He felt his blood draining from his body, and a quick assessment of his injuries revealed a rather gruesome scene. His legs were almost stripped all the way down to the bone, with bits of muscle fibers, veins, and arteries dangling; the exposed bones blackened. His underbelly was devoid of any hide, organs visibly hanging. His wing membranes had been melted, losing all tension and becoming oozy. To say the least, he was a mess. Dark Spyro stood over the mutilated body of his regular counterpart.

"You have only one option here. Surrender. Give up, Spyro, you know who is stronger here, and there is no denying it." Dark Spyro said firmly. It was hard for him to get a reply, but it came in due time.

"Wh-what is't that ou want?" Spyro's speech becoming more slurred the longer he laid on there.

"It is simple. Control. I've inhabited this body along with you ever since the night of eternal darkness. I'm tired of being second fiddle to a weakling! I've spent countless eons trapped in the fiery depths, fought countless to escape during each eclipse, and was beaten back each time. I honed my skills until I finally escaped and came to inhabit your body in the process. Now, we can do this the easy way or the hard way."

Spyro could barely speak at all but managed to squeak out the last word before he was no longer able to. "Neither..."

"Have it your way then!" Dark Spyro roared. He ran his tail under Spyro's neck, the poor dragon below him knew what was about to happen. With a feral roar, he brutally slit the purple dragon's throat with his tail blade, cutting all the way and into the vertebrae. The lifeless body of the purple dragon laid before him. "You will give in, even if I have to break you."

Spyro shot up awake, screaming and flailing, breathing out a multitude of breath attacks with a high degree of intensity. Cynder, in the firing line of this tantrum, quickly scrambled away from him as he continued. It was only after exhausting his supply of mana that the breath attacks stopped and soon after the flailing. When he finished, he fell back to the ground, shaking with fear. Cynder, concerned for her lover, walked back over to him slowly to comfort him. She sat down on her haunches next to him with her wing stretched over him. He was still shaking. "Spyro, what happened? Are you alright?" Cynder asked him in a soft, hushed voice.

"I-It was..." His mind blanked momentarily. It was a hard feeling to describe to her. But for all that he knew, Cynder might have had these before and would probably have a better idea of what he was talking about. "It was me but a darker version, the one from the well of souls. He was talking nonsense, something like 'the fiery depths" and 'being second fiddle to a weakling.'"

Cynder nodded her head. "What else happened? I saw you stirring in your sleep, so there was something else that happened to you." She said.

"I couldn't stop him."

"What do you mean by that? What did he do?"

"He was belligerent with me. When he started to come towards me, I tried to breathe fire on him to stop him. It didn't work; my powers had failed me. All I was able to do was spray him with embers and smoke, all while he was fully able to hit me with a beam of dark aether. It tore right through me, and I felt every bit of it. My wings were melted, my legs reduced to bones, and my insides dangling out." Spyro began to feel the tears in his eyes forming, and the streams that they produced as they slid down his face. Spyro wasn't one from emotional vulnerability unless in dire situations. This was the second time that Cynder had even seen him like this, the first being when Ignitus died, and the second time is now. "He told me to surrender to let him take control. When I refused, he slit my throat with his tail blade. That's where the dream ended, and I woke up like I did. I'm sorry if I scared you, Cynder."

Cynder reached up with her paw and wiped away a tear-off of his cheek. Her previous experience with nightmares and subsequent dream interpretation sessions with Voltier, she had formulated a possible meaning to Spyro's experience. "Well, I believe that you are struggling with your inner demons. Think about it here for a minute. Dark Spyro comes out when you are emotionally compromised, the first time was the rage at Gaul, the second time being the grief of the loss of Ignitus. Maybe what this is trying to tell you is that your inner demons are taking hold of you more and that you need to begin dealing with them before they become an even bigger issue."

"Perhaps you are right."

"I know I'm right." She said sarcastically, followed after by a small giggle. "If it continues, we go to Voltier to get a better meaning out of it, and we can always go to the pool of visions at the temple if that doesn't help."

"It's comforting to know that you've got my back," Spyro said, smiling. "While we are on the topic, did you dream up anything?"

Cynder nodded her head, then looking northward. "It wasn't so much a dream so much as it was a message. The Chronicler was in my dreams. He warned me of what is to come." Her mind couldn't help but wander back to that dream. There was something familiar about The Chronicler this time compared to the apparition that she saw catacombs, and she couldn't quite put her paw on it.

"What is coming?" Spyro cocked his head sideways in confusion. She quickly snapped back to the topic at hand.

"I saw visions of a vast army mobilizing, boarding onto their ships for a journey across the ocean. A journey to the realms."

"What else did he tell you?"

"He said that there was nothing that we could do to stop it. That, no matter what actions we take, will not deter them. I do not believe that, though. We saved the world together against all the odds, so I don't believe that there is nothing that can be done."

"Cynder… You aren't planning what I think you are planning?"

"I'm deeply considering it. We can change the future, Spyro, why not take that chance?" She looked back at and waited for Spyro's response. It took him considerable time to think of one.

"It's just that there is no guarantee that you'd be successful. The apes of the Dark Army were easy, but there is no telling the abilities of this army that you saw." Spyro said, looking into her eyes. "And really, I don't want you to get hurt."

Cynder blushed, the redness of her cheeks showing through her black scales. "Spyro..." She said, pausing for lack of words. The two just laid there on top of the cliff for a while.

* * *

The blacksmith shop was busy and noisy in the early morning. The master smith and his apprentices had gone to work early, entirely skipping breakfast. They were paid per weapon produced, which was a great incentive for working long, hard hours. Had it not been for the strict quality standards set by the Royal Army, fly-by-night forges and blacksmith shops would have been prevalent. And cheep steal would only cause troubles on the battlefield. The master smith was lucky that he had learned from a master smith before him, and that his apprentices were eager to learn and produce various metalworks. This was their contribution to the upcoming war.

It had been noon before they had stopped from the hunger in their bellies. With their allowances, the apprentices ran off to the market square for their meals while the master smith stayed in the forge and ate the lunch that he had packed. His meal consisted of the leftovers from his dinner last night. Slow-cooked meat, somewhat fresh bread, and a mix of vegetables. To drink was an apple cider, although a kind that children could not drink. He enjoyed the lunch, although he wished that it was fresher than leftovers. As he ate, a friend of his walked into the fire-lit forge. He was a gunsmith, working on the artillery pieces for a living.

"Howdy, Derick." The gunsmith called out, waving to him.

"I'm doing fine, Kelly. Had to forgo breakfast to make ends meet." Derick continued to eat his lunch.

"I've noticed on my way home that you've been getting here earlier and leaving later each day. You might need to take a rest because if you get hurt and are unable to work, then you will sure as shit be in a bad place."

Derick swallowed the food in his mouth. "I know." He said. "I've almost got all of my debts paid off, which I am wholeheartedly thankful for. Had king Dylan not started this effort and his son Bevan followed through with it, I don't know where I would be." He sipped his cider. "How has the gunsmith gone?"

"Relatively okay. The alchemists have been a big influence in our line of work. The propellant and the metallurgy involved has definitely changed thanks to them. The industry helped with the rest. We went from muzzleloaders to breech loaders and cannonball shot to elongated and tapered projectiles with an explosive filling. We are progressing so fast to the point where large guns that we made five or so years ago are in the reserves and are teetering on the edge of obsolesce," Kelly shook his head, "It's crazy, man. The older guys don't like it. They can't adapt to the changes, so they left it up to us younger guys."

"It's kind of the same here but to a lesser extent. The alloy's that we make is getting more complicated, where the mixing and forging have to be more precise for the best quality results; otherwise, it either becomes too brittle or too malleable. The blacksmithing process remains almost the same, though."

"Then again, they aren't putting as much effort into the innovation of small arms. I ain't no military expert, but I think they believe that with enough artillery that'll kill and wound the majority of the dragons, and use the infantry the mop-up the rest with their swords and other weapons." Kelly crossed his arms. A slight scowl formed in his face. "I think that it's a crock of shit, really. But how knows, they got more experience than I do. I just make the guns."

"It ain't our job to do that kind of thinking. All that we can do is supply the highest quality weapons that we can." Derick took another bite out of his lunch.

"Well, I guess I'll get back to the workshop. We still got orders to fill, and I gotta be there to make sure that those dimwits do it right." Kelly chuckled. "I'll stop back some time or other, you keep up the good work. You hear me?"

Derick nodded as Kelly turned around left. In his place, another man walked in. It could be Immediately seen that this was a man of a different profession, mostly by the clothes that he wore. Rather than wearing clothes that any other blue-collar worker would be wearing, he was wearing a uniform. The insignia on it gave it clearly away what precisely what he was here for drafting soldiers. Derick did not know what to think of this, seeing as how he's contributing to the war efforts right here and now. Perhaps it was a mistake? The only way to tell would be to talk to the man and get the answers that he wanted.

"Hello there! What brings you here, good sir?" He said in his most polite voice, hoping that this would help break the ice a little bit easier.

"I am fine. You are the father of Lyle, yes?"

"Umm, yes. Why are you asking?"

"I'm here to serve him his papers. He has been inducted into the Royal Army."

Derick's cheeks turned red with anger. He thought that being a weapons supplier would grant him and his family immunity to any draft that they might have done. "This is madness! You know that weapons suppliers and their families are immune to drafts!" He said, very indignantly. If this was a lawless land, he would have put whatever blade he had in reach right into this man's chest and through his heart.

"What are you talking about? Your son-"

"Don't you dare convince me otherwise! You know it just as well as I do!"

"Sir, would you please listen to me," The officer said. If he could not keep his emotions in check, otherwise, he was ready to detail him until a sheriff or deputy arrived to do the rest. "Your son enlisted. You can look at the papers yourself." He handed Derick the sheaf of papers. There in front of his own eyes in block print letters, the contract was that of an enlistment rather than a draft. And to top it all off, the end of the agreement had Lyle's signature. Derick was dumbfounded.

"I-I don't believe it… He never had any interest in enlisting before… What made him change his mind?"

The officer just gave him a shrug. "I wouldn't know. I'm just here to pass on the message. Therefore, take this paper here." The officer sifted through the papers until he found the correct one. It was the confirmation letter with official stamping and sealing. "Please give this to Lyle so that he may report to Fort Ledura for his training."

"I-I-I will." He said studdering, still bewildered that his son would make that decision. Instead of leaving right then, the officer got closer and leaned to Derick's ear.

"And if you chuck that paper in one of those furnaces, don't doubt for a minute that we won't come back not only for him but we will take you and your family with him." He whispered menacingly. He didn't mean to sound so sinister, but he had to get his point across. And it's not like that they would be placed into front-line combat anyway.

"Yes, sir."

The officer left the forge and blacksmith shop, probably to deliver more confirmation letters to other families. Derick was filled with feelings that he didn't know how to quantify or explain, to the point where he was no longer hungry or thirsty. He worried most about Lyle. He wasn't going to win any strongman awards anytime soon, which would lead him on a quick path to the grave if he didn't bulk up or was placed in front. He sighed and stood where he was for some time. It wasn't until his eager apprentices ran back into the workshop that he snapped out of his trance and went back to work just like them. He did not want his son to get into harm's way

Two figures hand in hand were walking down a garden path. Along the trail, flowers of various types were planted, each one being planted in a way for their colors to complement each other. The garden itself was expansive, with adjourning paths that connect to a wood where one could stroll through. When the wind blew, their scents filled the air with a therapeutic aroma. The figures were clothed in basic, thin garments that allowed for plenty of air to flow through. And with not a cloud in sight, it would be a hot day for sure.

"Bevan, are you sure that you want to go through with this?" Said a feminine voice said worryingly. She was Lady Jadney, the wife of King Bevan and the queen of Quillum. "I can tell you are having some reservations about going through with war."

"Jadney..." He stopped and sighed. "It just weighs down on me. I'm having a lot of doubts about many things, which is making me more cautious than I need to be. Do we have enough rations, weapons, and soldiers? These are all questions that when I ask my advisors, they give me blank stares."

"I know, I know."

"The answers are crucial. If we do not have enough on any of these, then the invasion might as well be a failure. They tell me that they are working on gathering the information to formulate the answers, but they have not given me anything yet."

"Then you do not have to go through with the invasion this year. You have plenty of life to live, and so do the rest of the peoples of the kingdom."

"But will they care at that point? That is the question." Bevan stopped walking, and so did Jadney. She gave him a confused look.

"What do you mean by that?"

"It's been twenty years since the Dark Army had attacked us. If we could wage war then, I can guarantee you that my father before me would have done it. But we did not have the manpower nor the resources. Here we are now, we have more resources to us and a larger population than back then, world fracturing or not. But we also have people that have moved on. The sense of vengeance today is not what it was back then, so I do not know how willing people will be to it."

"So, you are trying to exploiting people's outrage?"

"As bad as that sounds, yes, yes, I am."

"Bevan…" She shook her head. Out of all the morally gray things that he would suggest, this had to be up there with some of the worse. "I am disappointed in you, but I can also understand too."

"I'm sorry." He wrapped his arms around her body in a hug. She reciprocated and wrapped hers around his. "I know I'm a disappointment, but I'm doing the best that I can." All of it brought a tear to his eyes. It might have been genuine, or pent up emotions held in for many weeks was finally being released; nobody knows. To Bevan, it felt like a stack of bricks was being lifted off of his shoulders, even if it was only temporary.

"But you know what, It is your ability to keep moving forward despite everything around you that makes me proud of you." She kissed him on the cheek. "I love you, Bevan. You can be a handful sometimes." She said in a joking manner. He gave her a kiss on the cheek right back.

Before the conversation could continue, a young courier dashed across the gravel path. Both Bevan and Jadney were slightly agitated. The moment was absolutely perfect, and here it was ruined. When the courier finally arrived, he was somewhat out of breath, but you someone as young as he was, it wouldn't take him to long to recover from such a sprint. They hoped that it would be a quick message rather than a summons. He began talking right away, giving the two of them no time to free themselves from each other's embrace.

"My lord and lady… Lovebirds again, eh?" he said, slightly laughing. Both of them shot a mean look at him, which promptly ended his laughter. They loosed themselves from each other and faced the young boy, "Your advisors wanted me to relay this message to you. They have gotten the information that you requested." Both of them sat there and just stared at him.

"Well, are you gonna tell us what it is, or do they want us to be there for a meeting?" Jadney said, cutting off Bevan before he was able to say something along the same lines.

"Oh no, I can tell you right here. From all of the information gathering that has been done, there will be enough of everything. There will be enough rations, equipment, and people for the war to be waged!" He said excitedly. Well, that answers that. Bevan was bewildered that the day that he needed to vent about his worries and frustrations would be the day that he would get the answers to the questions that he was most worried about. "That is all, I'll leave you two to your own devices." He ran off just as quickly as he had arrived. Both of the royals embraced each other in a hug again, this time out of happiness rather than feeling sorry for one's self.

"Well, Jadney. I guess it is time to make preparations."

"You can make preparations later. Just enjoy the time that we have now."

* * *

**A/N: Well, I'm not sure how I feel on this one. I feel like I've improved a bit, while on the same token I've worsened in certain places. All of which will eventually be worked out in due time as I gain more experience. To clear some things up ahead of time so there is no confusion. If there is a horizontal line in the story, it signifies a significant setting shift (Dragon Realms to the Kingdom of Quillum). If there is this string of characters /\/\/\, it means a slight setting change withing the significant setting change (Cynder's dream to the real world, real-world to Spyro's nightmare, et cetera). I'm going to be planning theses thing out more systematically next chapter as there is only so far I can get by only planning these in my mind. Once again, any reviews are appreciated as I continue to type these things out with what time I have available to me.**

**~AbyssalBlue**


	4. Preperations made

**Review Response: **

**To: BunnyBlues**

"**Peace was never an option" -Magneto**

* * *

**Originally posted: 09/06/2019**

**Edited for quality of life edits on: 12/21/2019**

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_Chapter 3: Preparations made_

The journey back to Warfang was the hardest part of their adventure, and both of them knew it. Returning back to the dragon city was a return to the very thing that they sought after to escape, however, it would only be temporary. They would eventually get another opportunity to go exploring the world, even if that came in two weeks or two months. It was nighttime when they arrived, and they were welcomed with open arms as usual, not only by the city guard but the citizenry still awake too. The fame that came from saving the world wasn't wearing off, and it wasn't going to anytime soon.

Rather than flying directly to the temple, the dragons decided to take a long way and walk through the various backstreets. It was a perfect atmosphere for it too. The streets that they walked were lit by hanging lanterns whose flames danced around inside them, casting light and shadow in random directions. Against the stonework and decorative vines hanging on the side of the walls that adorn the path they walked, it gave off a rustic a romantic vibe. As if by nature, both dragons walked side by side, almost right up against one another, wearing small smiles on their faces as they walked. A small plaza opened up before them.

The plaza, while being less likely to be visited by passersby, it was nevertheless maintained like it was the primer destination of the city. From the wrought-iron lantern post that lit up, the area hung flower baskets that grew flowers that gave off warm shades of red and orange. Even the scent that the flowers gave off was very present. The pavement that they walked on was well maintained and appeared to be regularly washed, the center of which stood an ornate fountain spewing gallons of water out of the spouts and down into the basins. Spyro smirked as a playful thought, ran through his mind.

"ah-ah, ahchoo!" Tried as he may, he couldn't fake a sneeze to save his life, but what it did do was allowed him to freeze the water in the fountain with his ice breath. The fountain once spraying water had now completely stopped. Spyro smiled at his work while Cynder rolled her eyes in the 'Oh you' fashion. The frozen water suspended in the air gave her an idea. Like Spyro had faked sneezed as his excuse to freeze the water, she would do something along similar lines. Readying her wind breath, she loudly fake coughed, letting out a sudden burst of air that shattered the suspended ice, sending it skyward and letting it fall down back to the earth.

Although it was for a few brief moments, it was snowing in late summer. The snow glistening as the lanterns illuminated the ice crystals. Both Spyro and Cynder giggled at this; their playful antics together created something genuinely romantic. With the rustic lighting around them, the night sky full of stars above then, and the snow they had created falling down on them, they both of them kissed each other and held there for what seemed like ages. And with fewer dragons out roaming the streets coupled with the less-trafficked backstreet they were on, they did not have to worry about anyone dropping by and ruining the moment. Their lips parted with both of them gasping for air. Any longer and they might have suffocated.

"You know what? I'm glad that I fell for you, Spyro." Cynder said with satisfaction in her voice. Her heart was racing, and her mind filled with excitement. "I'm not sure than any other dragon would have done that."

"You know that I treat you like royalty." He said, clumsily back. While Spyro had gotten better with talking to her, he still tripped over his own feet sometimes.

A particular quip came to Cynder's mind that she could use to poke fun at him, but that would ruin the moment that they had between the two rather quickly. Another reply quickly formulated and was a little better for the moment than what she had initially planned. "I appreciate your continued efforts, my brave little knight." She said with a high degree of eloquence. "Let us be on our way to our destination at hand." The two continued their walk to the temple, the thin layer of the snow they created compressing beneath their feet, making them very distinctive sound as they advanced.

It took about another twenty minutes for them to arrive there, but they finally reached the temple. As per the rules, the doors this late at night were usually sealed shut for security reasons. That didn't stop the two from entering. Cynder melted away into shadow and slipped right underneath the small crack at the base of the door and opened it quietly as to keep the large metal hinges from squeaking as they made their way in. Closing the door behind them in the same manner, they walked silently through the halls of the temple, cautious of their claws clicking against the stone floor and alerting anyone in the temple to their intrusion; Although it would be unlikely for the guardians to even hear them over their loud snoring. Thankfully they both made it to their room without any trouble or being noticed.

The room was somewhat bland in appearance, with minimal furniture. There were the standard chest and drawers for both of them, which they used regularly, a short but wide table surrounded by cushions and some chairs. Other than that, there was another room connected to their main living room. It was a bedroom, with a large cushion used for a bed. Both dragons climbed upon and laid themselves down on the bed and drifted off to sleep, not all that different than how they did the other night at the clifftop on the northern shore.

/\/\/\

Both of them woke up somewhat late in the morning at around the same time. Cynder could see in Spyro's face that once again, he had another nightmare. And like the night previous, she could sense it with their power of fear. She, too, had another dream like him, although it was not one involving the Chronicler but had a very similar outcome: to persuade her not to pursue her mission. Naturally, she was dismissive of the message. She was going to go to wherever this place was even if she got no peace about it. At the same time, both of their stomachs growled in hunger, determining what they were going to do before they even got the time to formulate plans for anything else.

The dragons left their room and made their way to the mess hall. They were both reluctant to start the conversation, but it was Spyro who spoke up to break the ice. "It happened again." He said, his eyes locked on the ground and not changing their position as they walked.

"Oh? Do you want to talk about it to me?" Cynder said in a concerned voice. "If you want some time, then I'll let you decide when it is best for you."

"I'll talk about it. It's not so much that it was vivid, it is that it wasn't. Like, have you ever been dreaming before, and all you can recall is bits and pieces but from different settings? That is how it was for me. It was like Dark Spyro was torturing me throughout the night, but I can only remember bits and pieces of it, all from different perspectives."

"How many times did it shift perspectives?"

"I lost track after twelve."

"Oh, ancestors..." Cynder nuzzled against Spyro to comfort him. Even after that, he was still distraught. "Were they just as realistic as before?"

"Every moment…"

The conversation ended at that moment. Cynder remained close to him, she was unsure what it was even helping him. They walked into the mess hall, where the staff of moles had been working in a kitchen area to provide food to the essential occupants of the temple. At their request, they quickly got to work preparing a slaughtered deer into excellent venison. The smell of the meat searing over a hot fire. After being basted in a mix of sauces and seasoned with a different blend of spices, it was served to both dragons along with a drinking bowl with water. Cynder ate her portion slowly, taking time to enjoy each savory, gamey taste. Spyro hardly ate any of his; he was too mentally troubled to be bothered by his hunger. After giving their thanks to the staff, they made their way back into the interior to the temple. Next thing on their mind would be to get an interpretation of both of their dreams that they had in the previous days.

They sought out Volteer and found him in his study where, funnily enough, he was browsing through a dictionary to presumably find more words to add to his vocabulary. The study was not significant at all, only about the size of the average median income household. "Oh, ho, ho! Well, if it isn't out two little dragons. How might it be of service to you two today? Might it be a lesson in your electric breath, or might it be something else?" Volteer said in his typical chatterbox reply, closing sizable the book in the process.

"Good morning, Volteer. We need a little bit of a dream interpretation session with Spyro. He had a terrible, almost lifelike nightmare the night before last and the one previous. I was hoping that you might have an answer somewhere in a book on one of these shelves." Cynder points one of her wingtips towards one of the many bookshelves in his study

"Hmm, yes, I might have a dream interpretation guidebook here somewhere. Allow me time to find it, and I will certainly give the assistance you need." Volteer began scanning the shelves, looking at the spines for the right name of the book that he was looking for. A frustrated scowl formed over his face as he was unable to find it. He continued adamantly to find it, but with a heavy sigh, he stopped. "I'm sorry, little ones. I seem to have misplaced it somewhere. While I might not be able to help you in interpreting your sleeping visions, Pyra, just like Ignitus, has been gifted with the ability to use the pool of visions. If anything, I would inquire her about such a matter."

The two dragons had not gotten used to Pyra being the new fire guardian, and in some way, hadn't accepted it yet. Ignitus was a father figure in both of their lives that they didn't genuinely have before. Granted, Spyro had his foster parents in the swamp downstream of the old and now destroyed dragon temple, but Flash could only do so much. And for Cynder, she does not know anything about her parents at all, not even a trace of evidence, as if her egg suddenly appeared out of thin air. To them both, his loss was a significant emotional event.

Volteer directed them in the direction of where they might find her, and with that, they left his study. Once again, they made their way to where he had directed them, and they found her exactly where they have been told. Pyra was sitting on the main balcony overlooking the city as a whole. It didn't take long for her to notice the two dragons and turned around quickly to greet them. "Oh, hi there! How are you two doing today?" She said, in a confident and soothing tone. If anything, she was the ray of sunshine on a rainy day.

"Well, we kind of need your help." Said Spyro. "You have the ability to use the pool of visions, do you?"

"Why, yes, I can. Do you need my help with it?"

"Um, yes, actually. I think that both Cynder and I need it."

"Sure, sure. Come with me and well see to it right away." Pyra lifted herself off her haunches and walked back into the temple, Spyro and Cynder following close behind her. That was certainly easy for them. Thankfully, it was quick and to the point.

/\/\/\

The pool of visions was placed in the deepest part of the new temple. It was a very particular design choice that had to do with the significance of the temple as a whole. It was not only the place where the elemental guardians made their residence, but also the center of dragon culture and religious beliefs. Being the center of such an important place gave the pool a significance, on top of what it already had. Spyro, Cynder, and the rest of the guardians were sitting around the pool, the room was dimly lit by magical lanterns on the wall.

"So, which one of you would like to go first?" Pyra asked Spyro and Cynder. They both looked at each other. It did not need words to understand why either one did not want to go first. Cynder wanted Spyro to go first because she cared for him and wanted to get the help that he needed. Spyro wanted Cynder to go first because he was concerned with the warning that she received from the Chronicler. Spyro would not budge, so Cynder stepped up and went first. Like in the dream, she stared down into the pool. They waited there for a bit. The dream was instantaneous, but reality was often disappointing, with it taking a prolonged amount of time for anything to show.

"I'm… seeing something here." Pyra said. "I see an army, a large one. They are marching towards many ships in waiting. Is this what you saw, Cynder?"

She nodded in response. It looked just exactly as she saw it with the Chronicler. The image shifted, this scene was one of the soldiers close up, their physical appearance remained obscured. What they wore and what they were armed with was not. These solders were facing forward as if they were staring back in them. What they could see was that they stood upright on two legs like the cheetahs. They wore an armor that protected their torsos well, as well as covering their legs with excellent protection as well, and the boots they wore on their feet were finely crafted and of sturdy construction. One of them had a spear, the other a one-handed sword with a shield on the other arm, one with massive claymore, and another one with a beefy-looking crossbow. They all focused on the pool in an attempt to bring clarity to the image but failed to the fidelity that they desired. But they got enough clarity to see something that confused them about their anatomy. Was that… wings?

The pool shifted once again, this time showing a different picture. To all who saw it, there was no mistaking that the giant dragon in the picture was none other than Malefor himself. The view before them showed Malefor unleashing a breath of dark aether into an ornate building, with surrounding city alight in flames. All of them knew that something here was different. Malefor never attacked Warfang directly, so why was this being shown before them? It quickly dawned on them that this was not Warfang at all, rather a city of those creatures, and the building that he was destroying was a palace, where the residents would have most certainly been killed in the resulting blast. The picture once again shifted.

This time, it was along a forested trail that was well maintained by either the person living on that piece of land or someone who might have been paid to do the keeping. In the center of the image was that of a pine tree, with one of the creatures standing a distance away, looking intently at the tree as if it had some higher purpose or significance to it. From there, the image faded away, and all the pool showed was the reflections of those who look into it. Cynder stepped back away from the pool and beckoned Spyro to take his turn. Before they began, the other guardians took the time to speak up and voice their opinion on the matter.

"How particular, Cynder," Volteer said, "I am at a loss of words. These creatures, no, the civilization that you have been warned about is on that has evaded my knowledge."

"It isn't like the pool did not give us enough information about them. Had it shown us more, we certainly could have identified them. It's preposterous to think that they could have existed all this time and us not know about them." Cyril shot back at the electric guardian.

"Now, now, Cyril. Consider that they might be a distant civilization that we've yet to contact." Terrador interjected. "For all we know, they might be thousands of miles away."

"How can you be so sure? Ask Cynder if she had received any more information?"

Before Terrador could even ask her, she already was two steps ahead of him. "From the northern coast, I was told it was over a thousand miles away." She said quickly. For Terrador, that was enough validation for his claims and did not pursue it any further, neither did any of the other guardians. "Anyway… Spyro, your turn." Cynder said to cut any chance for the conversation to continue without it being forced and awkward.

"I guess you are right. Here's to getting answers." He began to stare into the pool, reluctant for everyone to see the torture that he had to go through in those dreams. They waited and waited, and still nothing. It was strange, really. Usually, by now, there would have been something to be seen in the pool, yet twenty minutes later, there was still nothing. "I guess it's not working for me," Spyro said in a distraught tone.

/\/\/\

Cynder was not all that happy that the pool of visions had not done anything for Spyro. They continued to try for another thirty minutes, and still nothing. After all of that waiting, they finally called it a day and went about their business. For Cynder, that was preparing for her cross-ocean journey, which would require a massive amount of mana and, therefore, green gems. She had left the city for the wilderness, her search would go deep into a forest area where she would begin her search for them. It was odd, really. Cynder had done her homework, and the gems were supposed to generate where dragons frequented. Oddly, Warfang was not experiencing an infrastructural nightmare from them generating en mass inside the city. If you wanted to find them, you had to go looking for them, and that was sometimes easier said than done. There had been many times before when out gem hunting when she had found gems rather easily and in large grouping too, and there were times where there was none to be found.

For her, it was a somewhat lucky day as, after about a half-hour of flying gracefully through the sky, she found a patch through the trees. Seeing her opportunity, she made a steep dive towards the forest floor. The treetops were approaching fast. Had a dragon with lesser flight experience tried this, they would have certainly crashed through the tree limbs and toward the ground below. This was no problem for Cynder. Drawing her wings close, she rocketed through the treetops and quickly snapped them back open while pulling up out of the dive. Gracefully, she landed on her feet on the ground like it was a careful descent. Being more anatomically inclined towards flight on top of her control of the wind made this seemingly dangerous task for any other dragon easy for her.

On the dark forest floor, the gems illuminated the trees and growing underbrush in vibrant green, red, and even some blue gem clusters. A broad smile quickly formed over her face. This was great! Not only would this provide the mana that she needed for the long-distance journey, but it would also help heal up any stress and strain on her body, as well as give a boost to her magical abilities. She walked up to the blue once first; in her mind, it was a priority as blue gems were as rare as they came. She swung her head around and, with the help of her horns, smashed into gem clusters. It was not a painful process at all. The gems were so brittle that punching with one's paw would be enough to shatter it. Like magic, well, it was magic, the shattered gemstones levitated and shot towards her. When coming into contact with her scales, the gems absorbed into her. As they absorbed, it wasn't something that could be felt right away, preferably something that will have to be experienced. Blue gems did not heal or energize, only empower.

Next was the red gems, which were in closest proximity. Like before, she shattered the gems and felt their effects almost immediately. All of her aches and pains, big or small, were dismissed like they were never there at all. Any pathogenic substance was wicked away; this would be a double-edged sword as these pathogenic substances could be used in conjunction with her venomous powers for an increasingly lethal effect. Her muscle tone increased slightly with the muscular repairs, giving a beautiful blend of tone muscle and sleek curves. She couldn't help but admire how well that it made her look.

The final gems to be collected was the green gems, which were also the most numerous in how many they were, a great advantage to be had. One by one, Cynder smashed all of the clusters without allowing time for the gems to absorb. When they absorbed, the effects were instantaneous. This time though, it was not as pleasant as the last two. She was not expecting the amount of energy that she would receive from them all. By the time that it was all done, her heart was racing, and she could not stop twitching. She chuckled a bit. She wanted energy, and she sure as hell got it.

"Well, that was nice." She said to herself out loud. "I'll head back to Warfang, and depart on the weekend for the north, then that far off continent." Little did she know, she was not the only one listening. There was a rustling in the brush, maybe thirty or forty yards away. With all pent up energy, she gave chase to whatever it was. Quickly breaking out into a run, she leaped in the undergrowth and gave chase.

Whatever it was that she was chasing, it sure was able to move fast. She continued the chase for what seemed like hours before coming to a clearing, where an opening of a cave was exposed. She stopped, taking time to catch her breath and get her bearings straight. The thought crossed her mind to go cave exploring to find whatever that was, it was quickly dismissed. As much as she wanted to continue, she was on a mission after all, and getting sidetracked like that while out on the other continent would not bode well. And while it was fun, it was a wild goose chase that amounted to nothing. It was fun while it lasted, though, and with a good laugh, Cynder flapped her wings lifted up off the ground quickly and flew back to the city. From the entrance of the cave, a figure veiled in the shadows slowly crawled out.

It was a Quillian scout in need of a new pair of pants.

* * *

Bevan and Jadney were both in attendance at the meeting. Everyone gathered into the dining room where not only meals would be served, lightening up the mood, but also where there would be enough chairs for everyone to sit in. The dining staff did a great job preparing the meal on such short notice that Bevan considered increasing their pay wage for the dedication. With the last plate and its accompanying silverware, they began their luncheon. While it was deemed to be rude to talk while eating in higher circles, none of them really cared given the context of their meeting.

"So, I've heard good things," Bevan said, cutting off a piece of bread from a much larger loaf. "All of the numbers say that we have enough of everything to go through with this invasion." He saw all of his advisors nodding. This was excellent!

"Yes, my lord. Would you like more details?" Called out one of the many advisors seated at the table. "I have the final results from the census office."

"Yes, please. Tell me more."

"Yes, sir. During the world-shattering event, we lost countless lives, obviously. However, it is not as bad as we first thought. The numbers show that while we did lose many lives, it was disproportionate to the aged and young youth. The losses that the fighting age population has taken is not enough to affect our manpower."

Bevan smiled at this. Once again, things were excellent. "Now what of rations? Much of the generational farmland was destroyed. Knowing our food situation would help greatly." He raised a glass of tea and took a slow sip from it. Across the table, another advisor, this time, the head of agriculture. He raised up his and pointed his finger up; he was still chewing the food in his mouth. When he swallowed, he lowered his and spoke up.

"We are lucky that when it happened, we had just finished the harvest, and there was plenty to go around. That was months ago, of course. With a lot of the long-time farmland gone, it was expected that there would be famine this year. However, because of the death of many Quillians, there are fewer mouths to feed. And because of that, we are no different than how we were the last harvest. It's like reducing fractions, really."

As Bevan took a large bite out of his slice of bread, Jadney spoke in his place. They say great minds think alike, which in that case, both of them possessed one. "What of equipment?" She said in a somewhat disappointed tone. "We need to know that too."

Another advisor raised their hand and spoke. "Well, we've been overproducing equipment. We will have more than enough of everything." Bevan smiled at this. Everything was perfect to plan, a little too perfectly, a little uncanny even. A chill began creeping up Bevan's spine. It was all too perfect, to the point where he knew that something was going to fuck it all up.

"And I know the finances are well enough to sustain the effort," Bevan said, a small amount of food remaining in his mouth as he did. He simply did not care if it was or not. "And with that settled, let us prepare the draft for the declaration and mobilization."

"Then, is meeting formally adjourned then?" Asked Jadney. Bevan nodded. "Then, I will go tell the scribe once we finish our meal, okay?"

"Yes. Thank you, love."

"You're welcome, my dear."

The group had already begun drinking out of their glasses, but that did not matter one bit. Bevan raised up his glass in a toast. "To our success. Long live the kingdom!" Everyone quickly grabbed their drinks and raised there up to.

"And long live the king!"

Their meal continued on without the formalities of the meeting. They all broke out into their own little conversations independent of one another and of the various different subject matter. If anything, it brought them all together and a little closer. All while this is happening, Bevan couldn't help but wonder if the world was setting them up to be quite possibly bamboozled. He dismissed the thought for the time being and continued their meal with the rest of those gathered,

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**A/N: Well, that wraps up that. I believe that I suffered from overusing the same words in this one, but story-wise, I feel like I made excellent progression getting the story to move along. This chapter is more dragon centered, so expect the next one to be more central to the Quillians to make up for that. Also next chapter, the journey across the ocean begins, and maybe even the reveal of the Quillian appearance. Also, I've started to plan out the story in more depth with the help of a composition book and a pencil. I can tell you for sure that had I gone with what I had initially planned, this chapter could have quickly gone over 10K words. Yikes! However, this isn't cut content, preferably something that will be worked into the next chapter, mainly because some time needs to pass in the story rather than having all the events bunched up all together In an incoherent mess. **

**On a final note: Just because I do not update in a while does not mean that I've lost interest. I love this story, and I very well plan on seeing it through to the end. This stems mainly due to me not having a whole lot of time between college, fire training, and other personal responsibilities. I hope that you'll understand. **

**-AbyssalBlue **


	5. The Journey Begins

**Reviewer Response**

**To BunnyBlues: Yeah, there will be an island or two in between where some lore stuff will happen. Maybe that will attack on sight, maybe not. You'll have to wait and see ;)**

**To Darklighteryphon: Thank you for being the second reviewer! As for your points that you gave, I can give some answers to them. 2) Yeah, that one is all on me. I knew before had that only one person can see the visions and I wrote it like that anyway. Reason why was that it was just easier to do that than write additional dialogue. 4) It's not going to revolve around Cynder, although she does have a major role in it. 1 and 3) That will be answered later on in the story, which if I reveal here would ruin a major plot point. If you have anything else to say, please say it and I'll get back to you on it in the next chapter update. Once again, thanks for the review. **

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_Chapter 4: The journey Begins_

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It was the weekend once again, which meant that it was time for the journey to the north. Cynder had told the guardians days prior that it was her intention to do so, and received less than expected responses, the typical overly cautious responses. As much as they tried to sway her from the mission, they words might as well have fallen on deaf ears. Naturally, Spyro was one to voice the most concern, but he was more understanding than the guardians were; More so, he had faith in her abilities. And with the mana that she had taken in still in her system, she was ready to make the flight across the ocean. Both dragons said their goodbyes to each other. Cynder had promised that she would be there and back again withing two weeks time.

She had returned to the clifftop where they had been a week before. Unlike last time, the sun had already set below the horizon. This played into her favor greatly as there would be a land breeze that would provide a tailwind, assisting in the journey. Using where they had both slept as a reference point, she orientated herself northward, which happened to have a cliff edge not too far from where they had been. Cynder closed her eyes and breathed in slowly and deeply, exhaled, and repeated the process. The wind at her tail began to pick up faster and faster. When the time just right, she snapped open her wings and with a single powerful flap, took to the sky. With the assistance of her wind magic, she was up normal flying speed where she maintained it with very little physical input, relying on the large reserve of mana that she had taken up before hand. This would make the seemingly impossible journey much more easy to achieve, and as powerful as her wind magic was, she would need very little physical input.

/\/\/\

Spyro was writhing on the floor again, this time there was nobody there to look after and or comfort him in. Once again, this was the same incessant nightmare that had been plaguing him for the past week. Ever more perplexing was that there was still no visions being seen in the pool of visions. There was something wrong with these nightmares, any there was nothing that could be done about it.

Once again, there was nothing but darkness, save for the same two aspects: The vertical beam of dark aether and Dark Spyro toying with the purple dragon. He was as helpless as ever, all of his magic based attacks did the same as before. Fire spewed out embers and smoke, Ice blew out snow, earth spat up dirt, and electricity shot out tiny sparks that might as well been a shock of static. Physical attacks had a little more effect, but he was woefully outclassed by his dark reflection. He had been killed over and over again, 'waking up,' and having the scenery change once again to the blackness. This continued for hours, literal hours, as if this was not actually a dream at all, but sort of dimension that happened to be for the duration of his sleep.

It would all come to an end when the sun rises and his sleep came to an end. But this nightly rest would not be as relaxing. While physically rested, he would be mentally drained. This had to stop one way or the other, even if it means forgoing sleep for a bit of sanity. He needed help for sure, but where to get it was a whole new question that needed to be answered. All that he could do right now is pray to the ancestors in the hope that these nightmares would stop.

/\/\/\

The guardians had completed this days worth of training the next generation of dragon young to proficiency in their respective element. There wasn't many children there to teach, but it was still better than nothing. Each one had their own particular style of teaching their elements. Terrador was militaristic and expected discipline in his students, each one training like a soldier. Volteer was more technical and sought to teach the mechanics of electricity, more so than actually teaching the magic itself. Cyril sough to make his students out that they were superior to the other elemental types, and pushed his students harder to make sure of it. Pyra had a more interesting way of teaching that made her special.

Pyra viewed the learning process as a recursive, rather than a linear process. The end goal was all about learning and mastery of skills and techniques, but with a lot of reinforcement of already learned skills. Some days, they would learn a more advanced technique while other days it was review for something that they already had learned. While they might not have gone on to learn more complex techniques as quickly as the others, they do however have a better understanding of the skills and abilities that will build up to the more complex techniques. All and all, she saw it as a better way to learn and by the looks of things, it was working fine.

When the schooling for the day was over, it was back to business as usual, which was usually pertaining to the governance of the realms. Unlike other species living in the realms that were ruled under a different system of governance, the dragons looked to the Elemental Guardians for guidance and leadership, and it was easy to see why. For one, they were older and wiser than most, living lives long enough to have the life experience to be able to make judgment calls that younger dragons might make rash decisions on. Second was that they were all war veterans that fought throughout the war against the dark armies, which gave them the respect and honor of other dragons. Thirdly, they already hold an influential position already as it was being the Elemental Guardians. Today was the day that the workload was lighter, and each guardian went about their day in about an hour of work.

/\/\/\

Ingitus was scouring through as many of the books in the Chronicler's library. Being endowed with the task of chronicling the new age, it came with some perks like the ability to live without the need for nourishment, hydration, or sleep, which was nice, although Ignitus missed being able to enjoy a nice hot meal and the cool refreshing feeling of fresh water. He was troubled by recent events that were unfolding. For starters, he was trying to piece together what snippets of Cynder's future since she did not heed his warning. He was browsing the oldest and most worn sections of the library looking for any information pertaining to the coming invading army, without finding any success. Last and most disconcertingly, he was unable to get into contact with Spyro.

Being more omnipresent, he had the ability to peer into peoples lives, communicate to them in their sleep, and the ability to see limited bits of their future. In the case of Spyro, he had lost everything. Something was happening that prevented him from being able to do any of it. He dug through countless tomes of books looking for answers as to why, but like finding information on the invading army, it proved to be futile. He was stumped.

After thinking on it a moment, he came to a rather c rafty conclusion. He might not be able to communicate to him directly, but he could do it indirectly by having the guardians relay the message from him to the young purple dragon. Now it was to whom the message would be sent to. All of the guardians were a great choice, and he could only communicate to one of them at a time, or at least he through that he could talk to one. But time was of the essence, and there was not time to be experimenting with his abilities when of the two most powerful dragons alive, one was a journey of impossible odds, and the other was unable to be contacted and seen.

He decided that he would send the message to them all. One by one, he entered their dreams and told them all to relay his message of concern to the purple dragon. Each one would skeptical at first, but would be reassured when they wake to find that they all had the same dream as each other. Ignitus was content with his work. With the messages delivered and ready to be relayed, he continued to crawl through the books to find the answers that he was looking for. And with the whole library to cover, there would be no telling how long it would be before he found those answers.

* * *

The royal chambers were dimly lit by small candles that sat on candle brackets mounted on the wall. There were single-night candles, and the user had no need to blow them out as they would not have enough wax to burn for more than maybe an hour to two. Both Jadney and Bevan were still awake, getting into bed not too long ago. While the through of being a little frisky entertained their minds, neither of which had the urge to act on it. They laid together, one right next to the other, it gave them the opportunity to have a heart-to-heart that they couldn't have with guard detail that was assigned to them.

Tomorrow was the big day, the day that the quill would sign the parchment that would bring the Kingdom of Quillum to war with the Dragon Realms. He was still so unsure about it all. He hoped exploiting the general hatred of the dragons that he would be able to drum up so much support that sustained offensives could be waged for years to come, he was not all that sure if the hatred permeated throughout the Quillian people. Those that were alive and remember the Dark Army's dragons have already reached an age where their combat effectiveness had dropped significantly compared to the newer generation. And if Bevan's army was to be successful, it had to have more than aging soldiers in it.

He signed out loud, that which was immediately noticed by Jadney. "What's wrong?" She said, Bevan looking her into her vibrant golden-colored eyes.

"It the war once again. Even though everything is good to go, I am still unsure of the army."

"Are you _that_ determined to see it through?" She said. It was a while before Bevan could answer her back. It wasn't a simple answer that he could give. He wanted to continue his father's work, the one who stated the build-up that had lead to this moment. "If you don't want to, then you do not have to."

"That's easy to say, Love, but it's not that simple. We had spent the last twenty years preparing for this moment, and it's going to be hard to tell the kingdom 'Sorry, folks. All of those years of increased taxes and initiatives was for nothing and everything will go back to normal.' Gods, they'll come for our heads if they heard that."

"Bevan..."

"It's the truth. If we don't show results for all these years of prep work, then the people lose faith and trust in the crown."

"I know, I know. But if you think about it, there is a way that could be a win-win situation."

"Go on..."

"Think about it this way:" Jandey shuffled around once again under the covers. "You can still technically go to war with the Dragon Realms, send a small expeditionary force to dip their metaphorical toes in the water, and if we can do it, then we continue. If we can't, then we withdraw and can call off the war from there." She had a great point. It opened up a new can of worms that Bevan began thinking of. There was no true winning condition so he could just make one up arbitrarily as to get it over with easily.

"I swear sometimes, Jadney, if only I had your intellect."

She laughed back at him. "Oh don't worry about it. There are qualities that each of us excel in." She said in a prideful way. Bevan already through of the perfect response that in which he knew that she would fall for

"Like endurance?" He joked back in a more suggestive manner. The look on her face said it all, the disbelief that she had fallen for that so easily.

"Oh shut up. Just go to sleep already."

Bevan laughed back. "Fine then, but only if we cuddle together."

"I'm not feeling like doing it tonight, I thought we had already agreed to this"

"I didn't say anything about doing it, I only wanted to cuddle."

Jadney rolled her eyes in a not-so-serious manner. "Fine, come on then."

Both Quillians shifted under the covers until they were in each others' embrace. Facing each other, Bevan kissed Jadney on her cheek, a noticeable blush forming on her face. She reciprocated. Both of them in a comfortable position quickly fell into slumber. If there was one thing that they could be certain on, it was that they always had each.

/\/\/\

Bradan was pacing around his office, lost on a long train of thought. The fact that he lied about the breakthrough he mentioned earlier to get resources from the treasury was something that was always in the back of his mind. He and a small team had been working on the manipulation of the metaphysical world for some time now. With all the advantages that they had, magic, alchemy, and ever increasing reliance of the mystical, the progress that they were making could be compared to one trying to wade through a mud pit. Before they could even begin to even attempt to manipulate the soul, they first needed to understand the metaphysics needed to even get to that point, which might as well have been them trying to fit a circular block through a square hole. Everything about it was different than their current understanding of how the physical world worked. The prefix "Meta" was defiantly appropriate.

Another thing that was hindering their progress was the lack of people willing to take on the role in researching, which was expected. Those that refused cited that the team was trying to play gods or was messing with higher powers that they couldn't comprehend. The religiously devout especially were against it, fearing that they would receive the wrath of the gods if they pursued any further than what they had. That did not get in the way of progress, however, and Bradan and his small team continued working on their task at hand. But wouldn't be surprised if they were damned in the process

He sat back down at his desk with his journal, an inkpot, and a quill. Writing down all noticeable observations from the previous days of researching, there was some basic connections that were made. Him and his team traveled to as many ancient religious sites as they possibly could, documenting everything that might be useful to them. Turns out, there was something that they all had something in common. There was a mysterious energy that seemed to permeate from each site, an equal amount from each despite some sites being large megalithic temples and other being simple arrangement of stones in a pattern of significance. Even more confusing was that certain places in towns and cities that had some sort of religious or cultural value also radiated this same energy. This observation was noted in detail in his journal.

Maybe this energy was key to what they were looking for, or might be a coincidence that the energy appeared in paces of significance. It would need further research. He needed time to think on it, or rather sleep on it for that matter; being late at night was not the greatest time to begin experiments or be lost in thoughts of the hypothetical. And it was in his best interest to get a good night's rest before continuing. But that was not what Bradan intended to do. Instead, he continued to work alone in the laboratory. He stood up and walked out of his office and out into the lab.

The lab was completely abandoned except for Bradan. All of the previous experiments had found their stopping places, waiting to be continued the next day when the Alchemist's returned from their homes. All of them were seemingly random and without any connection between one or the other, and generally that was the case. If there was something specifically requested by anyone or any department in particular, they usually delegated the tasks out to be done. This inevitably lead the artillery corps to take up most of the queue in their quest for a better cannon. Bradan was not interested in any of the experiments currently taking place, rather he was wanting to study that mysterious energy that his team felt. And that is exactly what he began doing.

He quickly rushed back into his office and returned quickly with a stack of books, papers, and his quill and inkpot in his arms before plopping himself and his book onto the floor of the room. First to be done was to determine a connection between all of the ancient religious sites. He quickly got to work on a blank piece of paper noting all of the similarities. There was many, mainly symbology that they all had in common. Perhaps that might have been key to the synthesis of the energy. It hit him like a brick wall when he realized that all of the symbology, occult or otherwise, had all been cleaned up during the previous days. He palmed his face in frustration. He needed to get something that he could use to draw the symbols out.

He quickly got to his feet and quickly left the lab and made his way throughout the palace. His first instinct was to make his way to the kitchens to use the wild berries to make a dye, which with his alchemic abilities, would not be difficult to make a dye at all. He moved swiftly through out the corridors and rooms before coming to the kitchens, where he proceeded to scour the cabinets and stores for the berries that he desired, and failed to find any at all. He growled. He made his way out of the kitchens, but not before slyly taking a chunk of rye bread as he left.

He went back to the lab and continued to pace throughout it. There had to be something that he could use. The thought of using the ink in his inkpots crossed his mind but there would not be enough available for him to not only complete all of the symbology and tank observation notes as well. He was stumped. The greatest alchemist and magic practitioner that the kingdom had couldn't find an easy way to solve his problem. His next thought was the flower royal flower gardens. Sure, it could work, but the gardeners as well as Bevan and Jadney would be angry at him for picking an entire section of flowers from the garden just to test something that might not yield any results.

_I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't, so why not?_ He thought. He grabbed a small sized bag and left the laboratory once again and made his way to the garden. This he determined would be a little more risky. There was not many entrances into the palace so there wasn't a need for a large guard force on patrol, but if they saw him out in the garden and did not know it was him out there, they were likely to shoot him with one of their sizable crossbows. He would risk it anyway. Swiftly and silently, he exited out the palace and entered into the royal garden, making sure to avoid the figures that patrolled regularly. He couldn't help but admit that the sense of danger had a thrill to it.

In the pale moonlight, he began to pick various flowers in their entirety from each section of plants, trying to mimic what the gardeners did when the flower beds got overgrown. One by one, he got a verity of different plants to be crushed up and made into a pasted that could would meet the demand for a writing substance. Every now and then checking to make sure that the guards were not patrolling nearby. Thankfully for him, none had shown up nearby. "Well now, that was pretty easy. Now, lets get back to work." Bradan said out loud quietly as he made his way back to the palace. Little did he know that there was a guard assignment that were behind the door with the intention of going out to patrol the very place that he had just been not two minutes earlier.

When the door swung open, Bradan's heart sank to see two burly guards in front of him in full armor and weapons ready to be drawn from their scabbards. Lucky for Bradan, not only was he wearing the distinctive alchemist's robe that signified his job, but also that the bag of flowers that he had picked were under the robe and out of sight as to avoid their suspicion,

"Bradan, what are you doing at this hour? Shouldn't you be getting some shut-eye?" One of the guards said rather loudly. Bradan cringed, as it echoed through the hallways, almost as if they were trying to get the attention of all of those that were asleep. He needed to think quickly to come up with an excuse as to why he was out this late, and it was rather easy to come up with one.

"Earlier I writing down some notes in my journal about some observations that me and a team had made while working on a new project. I thought that it would be a good idea to take break and decided that a midnight walk through the garden would do well." He lied back in reply. They believed him pretty well by the way they acted.

"Well, you get some sleep soon. You're not good when you're tired." It was ironic considering that the guards here were on the night shift. Granted, they probably operated on a nightly schedual so it didn't matter all that much.

"Same to you." Bradan replied back.

"That would be sleeping on the job, and I can't have anyone come in trying to peep at the king and queen at this hour." They all laughed. The guards went on their way outside as Bradan walked back to the laboratory with the sack of flowers that would make the paste that he needed. After a bit of work, a large bowl of a greenish gunk that will have to substitute for paint.

He got to work, quickly, using his own hands to paint on the floor the combination of symbols that all appeared at and on the religious sites. He was frantic in his work, almost in a trance-like state, determined to complete it. Left and right, runes, iconography, hieroglyphs, and common patterns. Running out of paint, he had to hurry up, forgoing some of the more paint-intensive symbology. He worried that he might run out before it was completed. However, that worry soon as he finished up the mural on the floor, sealing the symbols together withing one large circle.

Suddenly and unexpectedly, The energy that Bradan and his team discovered began to surge from the circle on the floor. Unfortunately for Bradan, he was still in the circle when this happened. He was subjected to a large and continuous dose of the energy, so much so to cause cause him to lose conscientious and collapse into the center.

An unknown amount of time passed beforeBradan's eyes shot wide open. He quickly recounted all that had happened before he was knocked unconscious. Sitting up, his eyes moved around the room, checking to see if anyone or anything had happened. So far, so good. Everything had been just how it was left before. The circle on the floor was also in tact and still flowing energy. His observations ended when his eyes locked onto another figure on the floor in the circle with him. He got to his feet and walked cautiously over to the figure. Had another alchemist walked into the circle and fallen victim to the mysterious energy? That was all answered quickly as a quick look at the Quillian on the floor revealed that it was himself.

He might as well have been standing there above himself for hours in perpetual shock. He was a man of science, alchemy, and of magic. There was no rational explanation as to why a duplicate of himself is on the floor. Or was there? The only way to know was to do something to find out. He stepped out of the circle and walked around the room, stretching many muscle groups while doing so. No physical differences could be felt. Next was to find out if interacting with anything was different.

Exiting the circle, we began to walk back towards his office. When he reached for the door handle, his hand slipped right through the top of it and right out the bottom. The epiphany he experienced was like no other he had experienced before. He had done it, although accidentally, separated a soul from it's mortal vessel; from his mortal vessel no less. It was a crude way of doing it, but for the time being it is what him and his team had to work with. As much as he wanted to say like this to see what was truly possible, he decided no to as he could do this again at any point if he wanted to.

He stepped back into the circle where his physical body laid. He though that re-joining his body would be easy as touching the body, and that simple assumption was correct. The moment he touched his body, his perspective changed from a pseudo-third person perspective back into a first person. The energy that permeated from the circle was still intense as it was when he first felt it, but rather than a soul-knocking punch that it gave when it first manifested, it was just extremely noticeable. He got up off the floor and walked out of the circle.

He contemplated on what to do next. It was his habit to document any of his findings but he also didn't want the energy to disturb anyone any further than it already did within the palace. He sought out a brush to break the circle and erase the symbols on the floor. Once found, he erased the circle and the energy stopped. That was good enough for him. He picked up the mess of books and papers on the floor and retreated back into his office where he would document everything that he experienced. Most likely, he would fall asleep in there like he did the other day.

/\/\/\

Lyle had been stationed at Fort Ledura for a while now, and since his arrival, the higher ups had him do a series of aptitude tests on top of his regular soldier training. This would be alright, if he had not shown his recruitment officer his understanding and basic usage of poll arms; they were probably going to put him with the spearman anyway. Lyle didn't dismiss their aptitude testing as useless, although it should have been obvious.

He laid in his soldier's bunk, waiting for enough time to pass until he would slip out of consciousness. Most other soldiers in the room had already fallen asleep. It gave him some time to reflect on his life decisions up to this moment. To put it lightly, there was a falling out with his father that he had not accounted for. Lyle had hid his desire to go into the Royal Army from his family since he was a little boy. His parents were naturally obstinate to his decision no matter how he would have approached them. But he was an adult now, he could make his own decisions.

It was the forge and blacksmith shop that his father ran that was the biggest deciding factor. Lyle had seen the backbreaking work that the forge was, as well as how easy it was to get injured. The same risks were present in joining the Royal Army, and that was many of the things that he had to consider. In the end, it came down to this: If he was ever discharged, he was given a pension based on his merits and time served. If he were to follow his father's footsteps, he would be beaten and broken working till the day he died to make a living. That was no way to go and he was sure of it.

But then again, there were other factors to consider. The kingdom had been preparing to fight the dragons for a long time now, longer than he had even been alive. Had the world not broken apart, the invasion might have already begun, and he could have been on his way to the Dragon Realms by now. The feeling of dread began to creep through him, up his spine to the back of his neck. It was dragons that the Royal Army would be fighting. The apes were somewhat easy to fight; most lacked the intelligence to know the difference between their ass and a hole in the ground. Dragons on the other hand? Not only were they extremely intelligent, but they are able to fly, and use magic naturally from birth. They flying part didn't bother him, it was the idea of dying to the searing flames from a dragon's maw. No… He pushed these thoughts away. This was not the time to be thinking of such things.

He shifted in his bunk, his sore muscles not making it any easier for him. Finally, he slipped away into sleep, joining the rest of the soldiers that had already been sleeping long ago.

* * *

**AN: I'm sorry for not updating this sooner. I had periodically lost interest and had trouble figuring out what I wanted to do with this chapter, which consequently makes me feel like this is one of if not the weakest entry so far. But that wont discourage me =D **

**I have a better idea of what I want to be done next chapter so that's good. Also, I'm thinking of jumping on that "Fanfic soundtrack" bandwagon, which I kind of already have some of the song that I would want to include. I do not know for sure though, but I will think on it.**


	6. The Journey Continues

**Reviewer response:**

**To Sol1234: Perhaps**

**To Bunnyblues: Don't worry, I'm not going to abandon my story. I think about a lot about this story, often trying to come up with new ideas for things to come or just plain old dialogue, but when it comes to actually taking time to type everything down, it's a different story. This mainly has to do with time constraints as I've not got all day to work on these chapters.**

**To darklighteryphon: Oh don't worry, this isn't going to be an easy for Cynder at all. In fact, it will be costly for her, but you will have to wait and see ****when I get to that part of the story. Also, thank you, I really am enjoying writing this story.**

* * *

_Chapter 5: The Journey Continues_

* * *

The sun rose over the dragon city with a gleam to it that seemed to be unique each and every time it rose. On the streets below, the moles exit their dwellings to begin another day of work, Cheetah tradesmen bring in shipments of far away and exotic goods to be traded in the city market square, and Dragons going about their business. At the same time, those in nighttime workplaces made their way back to their homes for their much needed sleep. It was remarkable how fast the city had rebuilt itself and how well trafficked it have become in the aftermath of the world's destruction and restoration. There was also a new sense of unity among everyone. It was the nature of tragedy that it would bring the best out of everyone, and it seems to have been very effective at doing that. And many in the city wouldn't want it any other way.

Lucky for the Guardians, it was one of the few off days that they had from teaching the new generation that gave them some leisure time. Although for them, leisure was not what was on their mind. First up was Cyril, then followed by Volteer, Pyra, then Terrador. At first, they all went about their business without mentioning to each other that they had been contacted by Ignitus. It was evident however that they were all in a state of general concern and uncertainty, which did not go unnoticed. All it would take was for one of them to speak up for them. It wouldn't be any of them that broke the ice, rather their favorite cheetah, Hunter.

It was unknown if he had asked his way in or if he snuck in, either way, it was always nice to have him as their visitor. Just like the Guardians, he too was in a state of concern. It was all centered around the knapsack he carried in his left hand.

"Good morning to you all. I am not intruding on anything important with my presence?" He asked, his voice having a sense of urgency. It caught the Guardian's attention quickly.

"No, no, good friend." Cyril spoke up first. "What is it that has brought you here today" Hunter nodded.

"Well, if you wish to see it that way, it's a follow-up to the discussion that we had weeks previous. Many more villages have seen the same creature as before, as well as the unfortunate news that a handful of Cheetahs have died due to unfortunate circumstances relating to these creatures."

"So they have killed your peoples? How?" Pyra asked worryingly.

"Hacked and slashed. We know for sure because they left their belongings behind, including the dagger that was used. We think that the creature was ambushed by one of out tribesmen, but the creature got the upper hand and won the fight." There was no table that he could dump the contents of the sack onto, so he had to make due with the floor. Many items fell out of the sack. A bloodied dagger, a canteen, some rations, a journal with a writing utensils, and a couple of feathers.

The Guardians looked over these items with great curiosity. The journal that fell out was in particular was the item of great interest. It would give them an insight as to what this creature was doing and perhaps the reason as to why it was here in the first place. It was a small journal, not meant to be manipulated by a large dragon's paws, so it was hunter that had to open and turn the pages for them. While it was almost filled to the brim with entries, the writing system was completely different to what the dragons use. From that standpoint, any written messages that they could get their hands on would be basically worthless unless they had someone that could read the words.

Terrador though was most puzzled by the dagger, seeing as not only was he a guardian during the war against the Dark Master, but a high up general leading the charge with knowledge of the weapons their allies used. He could tell immediately that it had no origin within the realms. The wooden handle was that of a darken wood, possibly stained for aesthetic effect, and overall gave the dagger a little more character. The blade itself was sharpened on both sides, with a blood grove in the middle that ran the length of the blade to within an inch of the tip and inch from the hilt; the blade itself was about six inches long with an overall length of ten inches. Stamped onto the hilt was a sort of branding that read "Derick and Co. Forging and Smithing." Even though they might not have been able to have read the words, it was a clear sign of some sort of mass production.

"The dagger is that of one that would be mass produced for an army." Terrador voiced his thoughts out loud. "Look at it, it matches characteristics of one."

"Are you sure, Terrador? The implications of this do not bode well of any of us if that is the case." Hunter said. "The last thing that any of us want is another conflict, especially this soon after Malefor's defeat."

"I know, Hunter. We are in no position to fight a war right now, at least not effectively. Not only has the war against Malefor thinned out numbers by a bit, but it also has killed off people's willingness to fight."

"That puts us in a very bad situation if that is the case. Everyone in the realms will have to come together if that were to ever happen, even our former enemies."

"That'll be the day… Anything else, Hunter?"

"No, I believe that is it. I will leave these items of interest here with you. There are more scholarly resources here in Warfang than there is out in Avalar. Perhaps you will uncover the contents of the journal while we investigate those creatures more."

"You take care, Hunter. We don't want our best cheetah connection getting hurt."

Hunter waved everyone goodbye and the Guardians nodded back in return. Now that they had a new set of serious news to deal with, eventually someone opened up about their experience with the Chronicler, and that person would be Pyra. Although she did not open up about it all at once, at least it was something that shifted the topic from Hunter's revelation back to what they had all been lost in though over.

"Did anyone last night have dream with the Chronicler?" She asked. It got the attention of the other Guardians quickly.

"You too?" Asked Cyril. Pyra nodded back.

"You two are not alone. I had the same vision myself." Volteer quickly chimed up.

"Then I guess that we all did." Terrador boomed, his powerful voice sounding through the room. "I am also going to assume that the message was the same?"

"Did he talk about Spyro?" Pyra asked as the other guardians became fully aware of the situation. "That he was unable to see or contact him?" They all nodded.

"These are troubling time indeed. We have an unknown, yet militaristic group of peoples that we have no known knowledge of their end goals or capabilities." Volteer noted. The uncertainty among them was clear as the weather outside. They all stood there in silence, each one of them thinking, either the findings that Hunter brought in or the fact that someone as powerful as the Chronicler couldn't communicate with the worlds more powerful dragon.

"Well then, how do we go about telling him such?" Cyril said, breaking the silence. "With his current malady along with the fact that his girlfriend has gone on a wild goose chase, there is no easy way to tell him this without putting more mental strain on the poor boy." Cyril had a very valid point. The incessant nightmares along with the departure of his lover, on top of his daily obligations had but more mental stress on the purple dragon. There would be no telling how he would react with hearing the that new tidbit of news

"Perhaps then we should wait before telling him? I mean, it gives us some time to figure out the best way to break the news to him – easier to digest." Pyra suggested.

"Perhaps, but if something were to come along that would put more stress on the youngster, the surely he might have a breakdown. Oh ancestors, please help us." Cyril palmed his face as best he could with his paw.

"I suggest that we alert him to this situation now. After all, we are here if he need to cope with the stress of the given situation. If anything, I would need it too if I were in his shoes." Terrador interjected, giving his honest opinion about the matter.

Both prevailing ideas about how to handle it had their pros and cons. If they waited to tell him, then of course they could formulate the best way to address him on the matter. On the other hand, waiting could lead to the unforeseen increased stressors that, compounding off of previous and current factors, would leave their mighty hero an emotional and mental train wreck. If they told him about it now, they would not have to worry about telling him about it later. On the flip side, putting it to him frankly might not be the best course of action to take at all.

They thought and debated over it for several minutes in private, away from any sensitive ears that might have heard them otherwise. In the end, a compromise was reached. It was decided that they would tell Spyro about his condition now rather later, but they would wait until lunch time to do it where they would be naturally gathered in a social setting. It also gave them a little time to figure out how they were going to inform the young dragon. It was also decided that Pyra should be the one to break the news to Spyro because not only did she have a special way with words, but it might also help build their relations with one another; the bridge had been expected to have already been built by now but had some unexpected delays.

The Guardians adjourned their meeting, and went about their daily business, although none could say that they made much progress doing so. Their minds were focused elsewhere and on a more pressing issues. If Terrador was right and that was a military model dagger, and assuming that the creatures that the Cheetahs were frequently reporting were aggressive in nature, there was the chance that conflict would erupt once again. What was even more worrisome than that was that Spyro, the hero of all of dragon kind and the most powerful dragon in the world, was rapidly deteriorating with almost no explanation as to why,

/\/\/\

Spyro woke up mentally drained as he had ever been. It was just before noon when he woke from his bed. He was getting tired of the same thing every night. Some breath failure here, a little bit of shattered bones there, the usual things when dealing with his dark reflection. He was not that devoutly religious for daily prayers and to go as far as offerings, but he was now deeply considering it. For all he knew, he could have been cursed by the ancestors. Was it because of something that he did? Did he make the wrong choice? Was Malefor right about the nature of the purple dragon and as a result he was being punished for it? He was in no condition to be asking these sorts of questions, so like any other would do and pushed them out of his mind with other, more pleasant thoughts.

He slowly stepped out of bed, first stretching his front paws out, followed by his hind legs, wings, all while stretching his back in the progress. A couple of physically satisfying pops later, he was on his feat and leaving his room. As he walked lightly and slowly down the open corridors of the temple, his footsteps echoed and reverberated throughout it, with occasional click of his claws against the tepid stone floor. He originally had no direction in mind, just wandering about the temple until he found something better to do, but that all changed when his stomach gave a loud, prolonged growl. He hadn't been eating much lately and since he had missed breakfast, it might as well have been the perfect time to get lunch instead.

Finally with a destination in mind, he picked up the pace and walked with a purpose. He couldn't help but think of how Cynder was fairing on her journey – no, quest. Using some basic math, he figured that by the time that she was able to leave the previous evening and how long it took them both to go from the northern shores to Warfang, it was estimated that she would have spent around four to five hours flying in a straight line getting there to the shores, assuming that she had not used any of her wind magic to speed her flight up or not. Of course, there was going to be some errors in Spyro's calculations. Cynder was a natural-born flier, so naturally her average flying speed would have been faster than his, on top of her lighter weight and smaller yet aerodynamic frame.

Spyro on the other hand was not as fast in the air, having to do with his strange upbringing. While it was clear that he could have been flying at an earlier age, it was rather difficult for a family of dragonflies to teach a dragon how to fly when the dynamics of their flight would be completely different to that of his. Instead, he grew up being mobile on the ground. This ground speed was increased greatly when his mastery over earth magic. He smiled a little bit. It was funny how the love of his life would outclass him in the air almost every day of the week but if they were to take it to the ground, he had a greater advantage over her. In a way, it was like nature's balancing act.

When he finally arrived in the mess hall, he found all four of the Guardians sitting down at a table, talking over their lunch. He walked over to join them knowing that the moles would bring out another platter soon enough with his arrival. The table they the Guardians sat at had a spare cushion, almost as if it were beckoning him to sit there with them. When he sat down, the conversation that was previously being held was quickly wrapped up and the attention was brought on Spyro. He could tell that he was the center of attention now, but he did not know why. It wouldn't take long though for him to discover why.

"Good morning or afternoon, which ever is applicable." He said somewhat jokingly. It didn't break the seriousness of the situation, it only made it worse. "Wh-what's wrong?"

Pyra wanted to tell him right away, but the words got caught in her throat. She knew what she had to say but had an inability to speak. Perhaps it was nerves, maybe it was that she was scared of what would become of the young one. The last thing that she wanted was for him to feel as helpless as a lonely child. "Spyro, we need to talk about something"

"Oh? What is it that you need to tell me." He replied, his head tilted sideways in confusion.

"You should get comfortable, because this might take some time." Pyra said in the most comforting voice that she could manage. That didn't help all that much.

Spyro was visibly getting more anxious. "What is it?"

"I'm sure you know of the Chronicler already, yes? Well, we all got a message from him last night, and he wished to inform you about something."

_Then why didn't he just communicate with me directly then? Certainly that wouldn't be out of his ability… would it? _Spyro thought to himself. "Why didn't he just talk to me directly then? If he could talk to all of you, then he would have no trouble talking to me, right?"

Pyra shook her head. The look on Spyro's face quickly shifted from that of worried confusion to that of dread. "He has tried many time, and he has been unable to contact you for several weeks now. He's been working vigilantly to –"

"Oh great! What else is new? Am I possessed by a demon? Cursed by a witch? Jinxed by faeries?" His contagious sense of optimism quickly turning to an overwhelming sense of pessimism.

"Spyro, I know that this is not the news that you'd wish to hear, but you have to listen to us. The Chronicler has been working day and night to find a reason as to why this is happening to you. Just know that you are not alone in this. Volteer has spend the entire morning looking through the various libraries trying to find anything in Warfang that will help you." She flexed her neck back and forth in such a way that made it look as if she were trying to stretch and pop it, while in reality she was moving it to where she could wink at Volteer and not have Spyro notice. It had been an obvious lie that he had been looking through libraries in Warfang, but Spyro needed the extra reassurance that everything was being done to help him.

"Yes of course! I've already gone through many old manuscripts in search of anything that can help you, and there is still more places that I've yet to visit. There is still hope yet!" Volteer said in his usual upbeat voice with a radiant sense of optimism. He certainly knew how to nail it when it came to faking it.

"See, we are doing our part to help." Pyra said reassuringly. "We care about you, Spyro. I care about you."

"Okay, but what about my daily nightmares that don't go away and last for seemingly hours at a time?"

"The Chronicler believes that the nightmares – no, night terrors, and the lacking the ability to communicate are somehow linked together. So if we are able to solve the problem of one, then we will likely solve the problem of the other." That was a half truth. The Chronicler actually had no idea that these night terrors were happening whatsoever. It was the Guardians passing along that information to him that allowed him to make that connection.

"Are you sure?"

That was a tough question for Pyra to answer. There was no evidence that either of which were connected, only the best of educated guesses. "I'm going to be honest with you. I'm not all that sure." She said softly as Spyro's expression changed again, this time from dread to hopelessness. "However, I'm not an expert on the matter, nor do I have the resources to determine if that is true or not." The other Guardians looked at her with disbelief. They were certain that she had just shot herself in the foot saying that. "Just know this: We really do care, and we are doing everything that we can for you."

Spyro sat there in silence, not knowing what to think or say. By that time, the kitchen staff had brought out his freshly cooked meal. The aroma was more than enough to cause his stomach to let out a loud, prolonged growl. Thoughts of doom and despair slowly left his mind as the primal instinct of hunger began to take over his thoughts. He couldn't help but salivate as he sat there looking at it.

"Here, Spyro." Pyra scooted over next to him and gave him a big hug, one that he eventually reciprocated back. "Don't let the worry of everything consume you. If you ever feel like you need someone to talk to, don't be afraid to seek me out, okay?" Spyro nodded. The other Guardians couldn't help but smile at the scene before them.

They loosed themselves from each other. Spyro gave into hunger as he gobbled down his meal with haste, his lost appetite seemingly returning after that heart warming interaction. The other dragons at the table returning to theirs too.

/\/\/\

If there had been anything that Cynder had regretted when she started the flight across the ocean, it would be not changing her sleep scheduled ahead of time to a nocturnal one. The first two hours of flying had been easy to stay awake through. The cool night air blowing over her scales and the physical exertion doing a lot to keep her awake. Naturally over time, even with her physiological advantages, began to feel physical exhaustion. This could be counteracted by the usage of her large reserves of mana in the form of wind magic to direct wind into her wings and creating a tailwind, but that comes with the cost of not having it later if she did need it. This was the problem that she faced. It was either be exhausted and have it in the case of an emergency, or use the magic and gain incredible distance, but at the cost of not having any in case of emergency. In the end, she decided to keep her reserves.

By hour six, there was a desperate need to find some place to land to rest, or use every last bit of mana and physical strength she had to make a mad dash to the continent in her sights. The other alternative was to land in the water, and hope that she would float rather than drown. Cynder's eyes had adjusted well to the night, her pupils dilating wide to take in all available light from the moon and stars. It would be easy for her to tell where the land would be below her; the shimmering of the water, or lack there of being the biggest indication.

After some scanning with her eyes, there was in the distance a string of islands. Upon closer examination, these islands left a little more to be desired. Some of them were barely as tall as Cynder when it comes to their elevation, with most of it just being coral reef debris and the washed up shells of marine animals. There was an island however that was a little more hospitable. It was still small, but large in comparison to the other options. It had plenty of trees that provided great shade over most of the land. That would be her resting spot for the night. She had landed on the shore, water and sand being swept up and sticking to her scales. Walking wearily up to the palm trees, she only made it in about ten feet before collapsing in the sand, finally getting some deserved rest.

It was after noon when she woke from her slumber. Since she was already here, it was a perfect time to explore the island a bit to see if there was anything there that might be of interest. And seeing as how the army in the Pool of Visions was going to be sailing to the Dragon Realms, they might use this island as a jumping-off point. She first did a visual scan of the island to see if there was any structures that might of use, which there was none. And the lacking evidence of habitation, partial or full time, it was becoming clear that small reef was clearly avoided, most likely due to it being dangerous to sail here. That didn't stop her from continuing though.

Overall, the island was completely abandoned, accept for one particular spot in the sand. It was an unusual indentation that couldn't be naturally formed. It was the subject of an investigation, so she began digging. After about a minute of throwing sand out of the way, brownish wooden planks started to become visible under the yellow sand. She had found something made by intelligent hands, and was eager to get inside. Noticing a small hole in one of the planks where a knot in the wood had rotted away, it was discovered that sand that had been over saturated in water would drain out through the hole made in the plank, thereby making the indentation over the course of countless weeks. She was satisfied with her find.

Gaining entry was not problem either. Using shadow magic, her form melted away into an incoherent mass of darkness, and slipped through the tiny hole where she re-materialized into a solid form on the other side. Her eyes quickly adjusted to the lack of light in the room, which was clearly meant to be a storehouse of cellar of some sort. Shelves lined the with old glass jars, all of them filled with liquid. She stepped carefully to the shelf, and took a bottle off of the shelf. As the liquid inside churned around inside, Cynder's curiosity began to get the best of her. She had seen before during her more unfortunate times that races with the ability to make glass would make bottles to store drinks in; Dragons were not such a race though, their bodies requiring more fluids than a single bottle could hold, would have large clay or metal pots for beverage storage instead. Driving a single claw into the cork that sealed the bottle shut, she pulled out the cork, taking a considerable amount of strength to get the tightly packed thing out of the bottle. She had the opportunity to walk away from the foreign beverage, but curiosity killed the cat they say.

She brought her snout to the opening of the bottle, taking a sniff to see if the beverage was spoiled, and by the smell determined that it was not. It had a very particular, somewhat inviting aroma to it She put most of the neck of the bottle in her mouth, and turned her head and neck up to pour the beverage. She poured it slowly at first, allowing her tongue to get a taste for the beverage. It had a very interesting flavor that she had not experienced anywhere in the Dragon Realms, followed up with a somewhat burning after taste. It was tasty, and she greedily drank the rest of the bottle. It left her with a desire for another, which she grabbed another bottle and downed it just as quickly as the first one. Little did Cynder know, that would not be the best decision that she had ever made.

She phased back into shadow and went out the way that she came it, her belly filled with the interesting beverage. She orientated herself and took to the sky once again. This time though, it wouldn't be the simple flight that she had sustained the night previously. This time, she would pick up the pace a bit. She could maintain a fast flying speed, faster than most other dragons. Without knowing the exact pace that she was flying at though, it was hard to judge just how far she had gone. Three hundred miles? Five hundred? Maybe a thousand? There might not be another island to land on, the only good choice that Cynder had was to pick up the pace.

She had compromised on her magic usage. Rather than an all out dash for the other continent or just enough to keep her from physically exerting herself. She would get up to speed and sustain it for as long as she viably could before having to become physically reliant for flight again. And with the reserves of mana that she had, she could go a long way before having to become reliant of flapping her wings to stay in the air. All was going great for the first, until Cynder began to feel strange. Perhaps the drink that she had gone bad after all. She had too far from the island at the speed that she was going to make it back before things got worse, so the only thing to do was push through it and keep going forward.

An hour had passed, and Cynder was facing significant problems. Not only was her motor function severely impaired, but so was her cognitive processes. On top of that, she was on the verge of losing consciousness, which would lead to a certain and untimely death. Either this had to pass or she had to land before things got worse. And over the open ocean, it looks as if there would be no safe haven to land. All was looking bad as the black dragoness' flight deteriorated from somewhat manageable to a gradual but noticeable decline. That would have been the end of Cynder's story, had it not been for a little help of the somewhat divine.

Ethereal entities, colored teal, and with wispy outlines formed the general shape of a dragon. There was one, then two, then four, eight, six-teen, and even more. It was a flock… is that the right word? A flight of dragons all flying in a typical formation for long distance flying. The assumed leader of this group, turned it's head and took a long gaze at Cynder in her less than sober state. "I sense within you your desires, the destination you have in mind. Young one, you are a long ways away. You've overestimated your skills on top of impaired them. But because of our distant kinship, we will assist you on your travels. Good luck, young one. Know that you are not alone, and that should you need assistance, we will provide." The entity said in a distorted voice. Soon, a teal light enveloped Cynder, and in the blink of an eye, she was gone.

Cynder was not in the right state of mind to understand what just happened or the significance of what just happened. All that she knew was they she was on solid ground, with deciduous trees surrounding providing ample shade from the sun. The last thing that she could coherently remember was figures standing over here.

* * *

Today was the big day. It was time to sign the official order that would bring the Kingdom of Quillum into a state of war with the Dragon Realms. Bevan still had his reservations, but took the advice of Jadney from the night previously. There was no victory condition set in stone, so he would exploit that when meeting with his advisors and military staff. And with an event like this, there would be some preparations needed. With him being the only occupant in the room, it was clear that he had to pick up the pace.

First off was a well needed shower to ease his nerves. Removing his sleeping clothes, he stepped into the shower and turned the knob for the hot water, the hum of the magic powered pumps bringing heated water to the shower head. Once done lathering and rinsing himself off, he quickly dried himself with a towel to remove most of the water, and allowing for what remained to air dry. Next was a trip to the wardrobe for proper attire.

For this occasion, it was essential that he donned the best clothing that he had available, that which he reserved for events like this. Underwear was an obvious first, but that could have been any old pair since nobody there would be seeing them anyway, so he picked the most comfortable pair available. A finely sewn set of trousers and shirt was next in order, each of them not seeing much light since their creation. After that, all of the other rather unnecessary but formal accessories to the overall. A nice pair of shoes and a pair of long socks also helped complete the look. Last but not least was the crown jewels themselves. This was the prized possession of the House of Raemes, the jewels of the original royal family that had been killed off long ago. Once donned, he swiftly grabbed the ornate robe to complete the look. And a gaze in a mirror on a dresser showed it all in it's entirety.

Walking out of the bedroom door, he was greeted by four of the castles Royal Guard, the most elite of the Royal Army's soldiers who had the honor to serve as guards to the monarchs themselves. They had been waiting for him since their last shift rotation. When the large wooden door swung open, they did not move an inch or reacted in the slightest. When Bevan turned, they turned; when he moved, they moved; when he stopped, they stopped. He made haste down the hallways of the palace with guardsmen in tow. It would be the event hall where the signing would be held.

As they walked through the ornate halls, conversations from open-door rooms could be heard. The things that people will talk about when they believe that they are alone. Some were sweathearted in their nature, the things that their spouses had done or talking about their children. Other were a little more dark that he would have not wanted to hear about. As he passed the alchemy lab, a loud conversation could be heard through the closed door. While the fidelity of the conversation was lacking, there was a few key things that he heard that made his stomach sink. Did he just hear them say that a dragon was found in a wood? He thought that he would have been told this by now rather than have to learn about by unintentionally eavesdropping on a conversation. Then again, the alchemist were the veterans of the war against the Dark Army, at it wasn't out of the possibility that they were talking about the war.

He finally arrived outside the event hall, he pauses. He was reluctant to enter the room and just stood there at the door with his hand on the doorknob. The soldiers guarding him didn't think anything different of him, hell, their expression was the exact same as they had been since they had left. He pushed his fears aside, and opened the door. In the room sat the most powerful people in the kingdom at a long table set up for the even in particular. Generals, Admirals, all of they royal advising staff, and Jadney, who had woken up long before him judging by how much effort went into the donning of her regalia. The signing hadn't begun yet, so all of the formalities that would be seen if one walked in on said event was not present, instead having the formalities of a normal event gathering.

As if by nature, they all stopped conversing as he walked in and bowed their heads. It was awkward, but a sign of respect. As he walked to take his place at then end of the table with Jadney, an event staffer conversing with other staffers quickly approached him. "Welcome, your highness. Everyone is here and accounted for." She said excitedly. While the formalities were still not in place, he had the opportunity for some humor.

"So you are calling me late then, are you?" He said back with a fake sternness in his voice. She became visibly scared before Bevan stuck his tongue out in humorous manner. She quickly understood what just happened and gained composure back.

"Oh no, your highness, the event is scheduled to begin thirty minutes from now so you are not late at all"

'_But I'm still last' _Bevan thought to himself. Being later than everyone else made him look less responsible. And being the monarch of a kingdom, it was not good to be seen that way. "If that's the case, then we can get this over in thirty minutes."

"As you wish."

Bevan continued to his seat, when the event soon began after being seated. The pre-signing ceremony began with a prayer to the gods of the Quillian religion, soon followed by other activities. Then, the scribe that was sitting on Bevan's left passed the large parchment with the declaration on it around to table, to where it will eventually end up in his possession last. This was a way to ensure that everyone at the table had a chance to read over what was being formalized and a way to ensure that no unauthorized addendum were added to it. Judging on how fast the document was being passed around, it was clear that it was only the declaration.

Jadney was passed the paper, where she took time to read over it twice over. Once done, she passed it to Bevan and nodded her head. She approved of what he was about to do, and that gave him a newfound strength and reassurance. It was finally here, the parchment that would change fates. He read it all in it's entirety, despite being shown the drafts of it previously. Everyone in the room way eyeing him, waiting for his next move: to tear up to parchment or to authorize it.

A ceremonial knife, gilded and with jewels inlaid in the hilt, sat on the table to his left, as well as a small shallow bowl, and a quill. There was no inkpot to drawl ink from, instead, measures had to be taken to produce it. Bevan picked up the gilded knife and in his left palm made a shallow gash. Blood flowed from his left and into the bowl where it gathered. It was with his own blood that he had to sign. With his good hand, he dipped the nib of the quill into the blood, and begin to sign his name in an ornate style of cursive that required plentiful amounts of ink. When finished, he placed the bloodied quill back down beside the bowl, still filling the drops of blood from Bevan's hand. When finished, Everyone bowed their heads, showing acknowledgment of the decision.

Having to sign something with your own blood is a painful task, more so having to draw it than write with it. It was a symbolic gesture just as it was part of the ceremonial ceremonial aspects of it. All of the dead and dying that resulted from the war would be blood on his hands, just like that on the paper that brought the in the state of war. "Writ with steel and signed with blood" they say, but rather than a steel blade, it was a gilded blade made for such events.

Everyone in the room stood up from the seats and in unison said: "Long live the king! Long live the Kingdom!" With that, everyone made their way out of the event hall and back to wherever they came from. The room emptied with such pace that Bevan and Jadney were the only ones left in the room.

"I honestly didn't think that you had it in you, Bevan." Jadney said. "What made you decide all of a sudden."

"I'm going to be honest, my dear." He said back. "When you looked at me and gave me that nod, I knew then that I had it in me to do it. Thank you."

"All you needed was my approval this whole time?"

"Not entirely, but yes. I was afraid that you would have hated me if I did it because of the way that you've reacted to me talking about it to you. I can tell that you are against it and I have to be for war because of a royal decree that I had to uphold from my father."

"How sweet of you. But what royal decree? This would be the first that I've heard of it." Jadney had a very visible look of confusion on her face.

"That's because I didn't want it to be known. On my father's deathbed while I was away momentarily, he had made a decree that would ensure that the war with the dragons would be carried out. A notary there to make it official. Do break it would be to disrespect my father and tarnish my honor."

"But you could have easily have made a royal decree to nullify his. You didn't have to be held to it."

"To do that would be cowardice."

"Why would be cowardice? You are not the one that will be fighting the war, so why worry about it?"

"Because I'm the leader, well... we both are leaders." Bevan let out a sigh. "It's because to back down as a leader can be seen as equivalent to all of the soldiers backing down under the leaders command."

By whose definition?"

"Every one of those generals that was in here sees it that way. They'll court martial anyone in a leadership for simply not moving their troops forwards, despite not being able to."

"So? They are the generals and we are the monarchs. They take orders from us."

"Yes they do, but they are the ones that issue orders to the soldiers. And if it was up to them, they could use that position of power to overthrow us and set themselves as the rulers of the kingdom."

"I highly doubt that they are going to overthrow you under the basis that you are indecisive on your actions." Jadney nudged closer and put her arms around Bevan. "You worry too much. How about instead of overthinking and worrying your ass off, we go back to our room and get these ridiculous clothes off and get into something a little more comforting." Bevan smiled at her.

"I couldn't agree more."

"Also, make sure that your hand has stopped bleeding. You know that the launderers would be awfully upset with blood stains on the regalia."

Bevan took the moment to glace at his left hand momentarily. The bleeding had stopped and the gash had already scabbed over and begin to heal and the blood that ran down his had had already dried too. "It's stopped."

"Good, now give me a hug back, this is starting to look awkward." Bevan didn't hesitate and wrapped his arms around her torso.

"You know, I wish that we could have more sobering life where we could do this a little more often."

"I do too, and you can start that right now."

"Oh yeah, how?"

"By going back to the bedroom and getting changed." They both laughed.

It wasn't as bad as Bevan thought that it would have been. The signing ceremony went well, and to top that off, it was as if a weight was lifted off of his shoulders. As they began walking back to their room, it now occurred to Bevan that now he would have to worry about the war itself rather than if he was going to declare it or not. But that was a job for the generals to do. He would give orders and the generals would give orders for it to get done. Maybe that was something that he should do more often in other fields. As it stood, he had a lot of advising staff and not many departments within his government. Perhaps it would be best for him to make his advising staff the heads of their own departments and take the stress and strain of having to manage so much off of his shoulders just like signing that declaration would. If anything, it would be just as easy to do as the signing, except there would be an inkpot rather than a ceremonial bloodletting knife.

/\/\/\

The early morning briefing that Bradan did with his colleagues was anything but brief. All of the documentation that had to be discussed, a demonstration that replicated the same results as the previous night, which put a lot of skeptics at a loss for words, and held a long lasting discussions on the implications. It was an eventful morning for sure, which finally got wrapped up around afternoon. With that, he finally had some off time to spend, which he was glad for. Being a workaholic had the benefits of high productivity, but it also required a much needed rest time before the person gets burnt out. He notified the correct people and took his leave from the palace to make the journey home. The sad part of being the top alchemist was that there was a lot to be done and very little downtime that was given. He could open more leadership positions that would allow him more leisure time, but frankly nobody else had the level of expertise that he he over the many subjects of study that allow him to have such a strong leadership, and doing so would only benefit him in the long run while slowing down their work.

Thankfully for him, he did not live all that far from the royal palace, so getting home was a rather easy process. Technically speaking, Bradan and his family's house was still on the royal estate, although their land was graciously donated to them by Bevan and Jadney. He missed his family, or rather his future family. He had married his childhood sweetheart a while ago, and it wasn't until now that they had tried to start a family. It took them a couple of tries to get it right, but when they finally did, it was a joyous moment. It posed a lot of questions to Bradan that he did not have the answers to. Would the child have magical abilities at birth? How would being a father affect his ability to work? How well would bring-your-kid-to-work-day work out? He shook his head. There was no need to worry about things like that right now. Deal with them as they come along.

It was the trek was about an hour and a half, but he finally reached his doorstep. The door was locked as it had usually been. After a couple of knocks on the door and a what seemed to be the longest minute in his life, the sound on the inter workings of the door lock began to be manipulated, and the door swung open. There at the door was none other that the love of his life, Katrine Arren. The two embraced each other tightly in a hug that lasted for a solid minute.

"Oh how have I missed you, Bradan. I'm assuming that you've must have been worked to death in that room of yours." Katrine said longingly. Bradan looked deep into her ultramarine irises. It was not that hard to determine what she was thinking, he had known her for too long.

"I know that you hate my line of work with a passion. I know that it takes up large quantities of my time that I myself would love to spend with you. But it makes more than enough to fill our coffers and provide for everything that we need. And yes, I have been worked diligently."

They both let go on one another and walked into the house, closing the heavy oak door behind them. The house was a decently sized with two stories, a full wrap-around porch, and a decent roof with plenty of attic space. The inside was also just as equally sized. Both Quillians sat down in the living room on comfortable cotton-stuffed furniture. It was a nice living room, with windows bringing in adequate lighting without the need for candles or magical lanterns.

"How is the child? Is it doing okay?" Bradan asked, letting his head flop back and stareing at the ceiling.

"It is okay. So far so good." Kartine responded back. "Have you made any new discoveries or refinements?"

Bradan was not sure if he should let that information to be known. He was sure that Katrine was not one to gossip and discuss matters of the alchemists, but he could not be certain that she would keep shut up about all that he has accomplished, especially yesterday. "Yes, me and a specialized team did. It was an investigation on this strange energy that permeates from places of religious or cultural importance. It's still a mystery as to what it does, but the team and I are eager to find out more." It was a sort of half truth. It worked for the given situation.

"Is it dangerous?" She asked with a concerned tone.

"Not that we know of, no. This energy has been around us since they day we were conceived to the day we die. By that reasoning, it's likely harmless, at least in it's 'natural form.' We don't yet know what will happen when we try to manipulate it." He hated to tell lies in front of her, but had the truth came out on what happened last night, she would force him to quit.

"Then don't. I don't want you getting hurt."

"I know, sweetheart."

They both continued on their conversations. It was mostly about all the things that he had accomplished since his last visit. It was the best for both of them. Bradan needed time off from his work otherwise he'd become consumed by it, and Katrine needed it because of how little she sees him because of his line of work. It all went over well, with both of them having a good time together. Conversations about all that has happened, a couple of card and board games played. Hours passed by in the blink of an eye. It was their unspoken desires for moments like this to last forever, but that was about to change. It could be seen from the living room window that there was a messenger running towards their home at an incredible rate of speed, usually seen in times of emergency. He had assumed the worst, that there was an accident in the laboratory that destroyed most of it and compromised the structural integrity of the entire palace. Rather than let the messenger beat and bang on the door like an obnoxious kid, he was already standing with the door open waiting for the young runner.

"Bra-Bradan! You presence is needed immediately!" The poor boy managed to huff out, clearly out of breath from such an intense sprint.

"What is it, good sir? Has has there been an accident in the labs?" The time it took for the answer to fall on his ears felt like an eternity.

"No, something remarkable! A forest ranger found a dragon unconscious in the surrounding woods around Mystic Springs!" The messenger chimed up. Bradan's heart nearly skipped a beat at the thought of it. The last known sighting of a dragon was when the Dark Army's expedition on Treablesh began their evacuation off the continent. This was truly a remarkable event. Katrine however was not so excited about this news.

"Bradan, please put that thing down before it has the chance to wreak havoc on the kingdom like the last ones did." She beckoned to him, the fear in her voice was clear as a bell. Katrine lost her most of her family from a raid carried out by the dragons of the Dark Army.

Bradan turned to face her, she was still sitting in the living room. "Sweetheart… I don't think that the dragon they found was involved in the war against the Dark Army," he said.

"How can you be so sure? You haven't even seen the damned thing, much less had to opportunity to interrogate it."

"Okay, then." He turned back to the messenger, still panting on his front porch. "Tell me, was it a younger or older dragon?" The messenger gave him a look of confusion.

"Sir, how am I supposed to tell how old it is?" the messenger said.

"Can you put a saddle on it's back and ride it or would the saddle be too big?" Bradan gave himself a mental pat on the back for that comeback. Katrine's fear was briefly broken by a small giggle.

"Well, um, it would probably fall off."

Bradan turned back to Katrine again. "Well, that is your answer. It's a young dragon. All of the recorded sighting of them during the war against the Dark Army was older, much larger ones."

"Again, how can you be so sure?" She asked again.

This time, Bradan got short with her. "Because I was the one who killed the first Dark Army dragon. I was sixteen and a soldier twenty years ago, I drank the potion that granted me the abilities that I have today, and I threw the energy ball that sent the dragon down to the earth below! I know what the dragons of the Dark Army looked like because I've seen them first hand." he said with his voice raised. And he hated that he did that. He palmed his face with a tinge of remorse "I'm sorry. I didn't want to yell."

"Sure you did. Just run off again because family isn't as important as work is." Kartine wheeled around on her heels, walked in, and slammed the door shut. The sound of mechanical parts moving telling him that she had locked him out. Bradan sighed. There was no use in fighting it right now as it would only make things much worse than they already are. He tuned back to the messenger, why had a complete look of confusion on his face.

"Don't worry, she will be over it in due time. Now, let us go see this dragon, shall we?" He spoke to the messenger. "I'm sure that we will not be the only ones wanting to get a look at it."

The boy nodded back. "No sir, you are not the only one. Let us make haste. It will be a days travel, but we will make it there nonetheless," he said. Both of them quickly departed from the residence.

Bradan now had time to think. Found at Mystic Springs… That was name he hadn't heard in a long time. It brought back many memories. There was some good ones. The felling of the dragon of course was a good one. There was the camaraderie between him and his fellow magical soldiers; they had gone on to be the best of the best. There was also the bad memories or more specifically gilt. There had been many dragon raids since they drank their respective potions, but they were unable to do anything to stop them as their powers were still in their infancy. Of course, had they tried and intercepted a dragon without the proficiency that they had when they actually did, they would have ended up on a causality report.

As they traveled, he wondered what all that he could do with a dragon specimen. Sure, there was all of the things that could be done to test previously held assumptions about them. It was then that he remembered what he had told Bevan two weeks earlier. He was unsure on how proceed with that though. The method of detachment was a crude one, hell, it was discovered on accident. There was too many unknown variables. He would have to wait before him and his team perform such an action.

The arrival took more time than they expected, the sun hiding behind the horizon and the moons shining brightly in the sky. Bradan hadn't been in the town in twenty years. From memory, everything was different than things were back then. It was no different that the growth of Castle Town over the years, but the difference was that he can observe the change over time. In the case of Mystic Springs, that was not the case. Thankfully though, the messenger that had got him in the first place did have knowledge of where things were in the town, and therefor lead him to where he would find the dragon in question.

He was lead to to the town jail, which he found rather inhospitable for Quillian and dragon alike. Stepping onto the front porch, the boards creaked as he put his weight on them. The front door was equally as audible as the iron hinges moved against one another. Before he could go back to where the holding cells were, he had to go through what he presumed was the sheriff of the town, who was sitting at a desk with an orderly stack of papers and a mug of what Bradan could only assume was an ale, all lit by oil lamps throughly throughout the structure. His head was buried in his work, looking over legal documents with a wax stamp and inkpot ready to formalize those that needed it. It was an awkward moment as Bradan stood there in front of the man's desk and waited for him to look up. After scanning through the document on his desk, he reached over to quill in the inkpot and signed the bottom of it with great haste before setting the paper aside and finally looking up at Bradan standing four feet from his desk.

"Good evening, sir. How might be of help?" The sheriff said to Bradan, taking a sip out of the mug on his desk. "If you need a magistrate, then let me know and I will have a letter sent to her office soon enough that you have requested her presence in legal matters."

'_Well that was certainly courteous. This might be the easiest thing that I've done in a long while.'_ Bradan thought to himself. '_But I'm not out of the woods yet...'_ He took a second to gain proper composure before speaking. "I am Bradan, head alchemist of the kingdom. I was told by this messenger here that I was to report here. You have a dragon held up in a cell is what I've heard."

"Yes, yes." The sheriff stood up from his chair and walked back around the desk. "Come with me and I will take you to it." He said a gruff voice. He walked down a hall way and Bradan as well as the messenger walked with him. Cells lined the hall on both sides, with a surprisingly low number of convicts. In this jail, the iron bars that separated the jailed from freedom were in a room of their own, with access through a heavy metal door to get to the bars. They reached the end of the hallway where two sheriff's deputies acting as guards at the door. The sheriff eyed the both of them, both nodding in understanding to the silent order. The guards move off to the side, and the sheriff took a set of keys out his his coat pocket and unlocked and opened the door. He and Bradan both moved deftly into the cell.

There he saw it. It was a smaller sized black-scaled dragon with a magenta underbelly and wing membranes. It was sprawled out on the floor, still unconscious as they had found it. It was a marvel to see a dragon for the first time in twenty years. Examining it closer, the claws, horns, and the blade at the end of it's tail was pristine, with no indication of stains and battle scars; examining the scales again revealed no sort of previous violent incidents. This dragon looks like a peaceful one by those indications, but he couldn't be sure on that alone. He would have to wait for it to wake to confirm or dismiss those assumptions. He could, however, get some of the little information that they already had.

"Tell me, sir, the circumstances of this dragon's capture?" He asked, turning his head behind him to the three others. One of the guards was first to answer.

"Well, the forester found it first." he said. "He then reported it to a deputy who is off shift, who then reported back here. We eventually loaded it on a covered cart and brought it back here. We are lucky nobody saw it, 'cause if they did then we would be in some serious trouble trying to keep them from burning this place down with the dragon in it."

"Fair enough. Was it ever awake at all between discovery and now?"

Both guards and sheriff let out a hearty laugh. "Have you ever tried to wake a drunkard after going head first into a keg? The damned thing was drunk when we found it!" Bradan had to hold back his laughter to preserve the seriousness of the situation.

"Are you serious? The Dragon Realms are over two thousand miles away. How might have a dragon gotten drunk on the flight here and still made it this far inland?"

"It's a mystery to us, but we can confirm that it had to have had it's fill; you could smell the alcohol from it."

"That doesn't make any sense, but then again being able to preform magic isn't either."

Bradan and the three others just stood there, watching over the unmoving an unconscious dragon. Each one of them had their own silent thoughts, concerns, and perhaps dreams of the future. Here they were, three of them unremarkable, one slightly less unremarkable, bearing witness to an event that had implications that were farther than any of them had ever expected it to be. Was this dragon truly passive? Was it a scout for the Dark Army, and that a fated return would happen? They could not tell. All they could do was wait for the dragon to sober up, all while waiting in the cell.

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**10,000 word chapter! Wooo! I had a lot of fun writing this one. The scene where Cynder gets shitface drunk was inspired a lot from a scene in Pirates of The Caribbean. Was it unnecessary? Maybe. What is entertaining? Absolutely, well, for me it was. Also, I was thinking of writing out what the declaration of war actually said, but I was not quite sure on how to word it all and what to include. So as a bit of audience interaction, I'll let you all contribute to it in your own way. Either in PMs or a review submit your ideas of what to put in it and I will try to include as much of your submissions as possible. Thank you all for reading and for those that will put forth submission, I wish you the best of luck in your writing!**

**\- AbyssalBlue**


	7. Backfire

**Reviewer Response:**

**To Bunnyblues: Yeah, I noticed you were a little late to review, seeing as how you have a track record of reviewing soon after a new chapter is posted. It's funny really because the chapter was mostly written save for a few parts when you posted it, so the questions you asked were answered before you asked them =P. Also, thanks for the advice on the declaration, as I will try to have it done by next chapter.**

**To darklighteryphon: I think that the execution of the scene with Spyro and Pyra could have gone better because all that they spoke about was all that I had planned. The reason that the whole Cynder getting drunk thing was more or less to get the story progressed. There is only so much that you can type about flying across an ocean before it gets dry. Pyra here is an OC, and not the one in the flashbacks in A New Beginning. Naming convention wise, it was an easy choice as coming up with names is something I'm terrible at.**

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_Chapter 6: Backfire_

* * *

Another night passed in the realms and all was peaceful. Birds were singing, flowers were blooming, and the sun was shining at a tolerable brightness. With this morning, Spyro woke up feeling relieved and relaxed. It was one of the first nights that he actually did not have a long-lasting nightmare last night. Wait… There was no nightmare? The very fact that there was not one was a tad bit more unsettling to Spyro than the actual nightmares themselves. There was also the coincidence that it had stopped the day that the chronicler relaying information through the Guardians informed him of his situation. Then again, there was no telling as to why exactly they stopped then. If he was truly rid of whatever malady that affected him, then perhaps he would have already received a message from the Chronicler by now. These were questions that needed answers to, which sadly for Spyro simply were not available yet.

He wouldn't let those burden him, at least not today anyway. This was the one time he actually felt rested, and he was going to make the most of it in the best way that he could. And that was to take a visit back to his foster parents in the swamp. It would take no time at all to get his bearings as the Silver River's headwaters were well known and all he would have to do was follow the river down until the distinctive large mushrooms that were hard to miss. If he was lucky, he might also find Sparx there too; Sparx left about a month ago back to the swamp to see them as well as to find the one for him. He knew though that he shouldn't leave without notifying anyone, but then again it would just waste what good time he had before the sun went back down. With a piece charred wood, he quickly scribbled a note onto a piece of parchment paper.

_To those concerned,_

_I'm feeling much better today than I was in day before. For the first time in a while, I have not had any nightmares like I had before. Because of this, I'm feeling well rested and in a much better state of mind than before. I've decided that I will make the most of the day and visit the family that raised my back in the swamp downstream of the Silver River. I plan to be back before nightfall, no later than after dusk at the latest. I will see you all later tonight when I return._

_With best regards,_

_-Spyro_

With that finished, he quickly and stealthily made his way out of the temple and took flight to the place of the headwaters. Gaining altitude, he looked to the city below him. It was the thriving center of the many cultures in the dragon realms; a place for Dragons, the Moles, Cheetahs, Atlawa, and the newest arrival: canines. Most of them were former Skavengers that had quit their life of plundering and joined the rest of civilized society. While most were skeptical of their presence at first because of their past, but they quickly showed their worth. Many of them came with the skills of Woodworking, rope-making, crafting navigational aids and devices, and a few that worked on the magic-powered engines that gave their ships the power of flight. One might think at face value that because of their arrival, that flying trade ships would be common in the sky, but there was of course a problem with that. They were maintenance and damage control crewmen that took care of them rather than those that manufactured them; They could repair them an keep them running but did not know how they were exactly built.

After the arrival of the defected Skavengers, more canines began to arrive that were not affiliated with the sky pirates. Their form of society was interesting at that. The canines had a strong connection in the form of family clans that are fiercely loyal to their clan in particular, but what one might consider hostile to others. It's assumed that it's a result of more primal pack instincts. As a result of that, they are renown for their charitable and cordial behavior. When asked, they almost always respond with: "The city is our clan now. We always look after our fellow members." Their numbers are sparse, but there is always a couple that walk into the city gates every day at this point.

Spyro soared high in the air over the walls, and headed southwest. The source of Silver River was from a small mountain range where water from numerous creeks and streams coalesce into one large, singular body of water. These were old and distinctive mountains as that they had smooth, rounded peaks, and were heavily forested from the bottom all the way to the top. It was a sign of age, that the largest of stones in the elements are reduced to dirt with due time. It was not long before he found the range, and began the search for the sun shimmering on water's surface. It took some time, but the river was found and he began to fly in it's flowing direction.

He wondered how well his parents would receive him. Doing a headcount, he had been gone for roughly four or so years. Even though they knew and were supportive of him finding out who he truly was, Spyro knew that they would and have missed him since he left, therefor they might be elated to see him. It wasn't long before the trees of the forest began to give way slowly to the large, distinctive mushrooms that he lived among for all of his childhood. The further that he flew, the more the air began to smell and taste foul. Mushrooms were after all a fungus that spread pores, which being exposed to them in his youthful years gave him a sort of immunity to their smell and taste. Before too long, reduced altitude and speed, and scanned the riverbanks to find that distinctive spot that he called home.

As he got close, there were places that were familiar to him: the swimming hole that he learned to swim in, the tiny islands in the stream that they had tried to build a fort on with rocks they dredged up, and a cave that both of them were too scared to explore but worked up the courage to do so. It brought a tears to his eyes as the nostalgia filled him. The nostalgia would be quickly broken as the faint but distinctive whiff of smoke began to fill the air. Almost by nature, he followed the scent back to the source, and found a depressing sight. The sight and home of his childhood had been used as a campsite for some wayward traveler. The tree that his foster parents had used was reduced to a pile of ash in a circle of stones, and the home that Flash and Nina had build was seen off to the side smashed to bits with a puddle of ooze under it all. At that point, there was no need to investigate further to know what had happened. He went to look anyway to see the extent.

Sifting through the debris, his suspicions were confirmed when he got to the bottom.

"O-o-oh no..." His voice faltered. There was no words that he could say that could change anything or make things better. A storm of emotions began to whirl within the purple dragon: anger, fear, sadness, … and rage. Deep in his mind, he felt a presence creep closer and closer to prominence. The presence grew stronger and stronger he looked at the scene before him. There was a strange feeling associated with it, encouraging Spyro to act on the emotion, to give into the near-boiling rage, to relinquish control. It was a very familiar feeling that he had only experienced twice, and with his recent series of resting experiences, he was very quick to act. He left in a quick haste, faster than he had taken off before. As he flew away, the presence began fade away slowly until it was no longer present.

Here he had though that with the lack of crippling nightmares the nights previous would make his day better, but now there was another thing that he had to mentally compensate for. It would be rough, but the process of dealing with grief was a universal thing that everyone had to go through, and this time was no different than it was when Ignitus sacrificed himself for them to get through the Belt of Fire. The only thing that he could do now was return back to Warfang. As for what he would do, he was not all that sure. If Cynder was here, then he could have someone to help deal with that grief.

Cynder… she was still gone on that journey of hers. That was another thing that he began to fret over. How was she doing? Did she make it by now? What even was the species that lived where she was going? It was more questions that needed to be answered. He hoped for the best, but the chances of something going bad were quite large. If her visions that she had received were that of the future, then of course they would be hostile. It was a matter of how aggressive that they were that was the biggest deciding matter when it comes to her treatment if the had captured her.

Spyro reassured himself that Cynder was very capable of fending for herself, and that there even if they attempted to capture her, it would be easy for her to slip away. If push came to shove, it was easy for her to fight off a small army if she had to. Little did he know, it wasn't that hard for them to do so.

/\/\/\

Ignitus groaned as he got off the stony floor, his joints popping as he did so. He had been browsing through all of the books that he could to get any information that could both help him and help Spyro from whatever was affecting him. More than that, he also now had to worry about the state of Cynder since she had left for that far off continent rather than heed his warnings. It was mentally taxing for an entity who was supposed to have the mental capacity for a job like this. There was a stack of almost impossibly large books in his vicinity that he had to take the arduous task of reading though to find the information that he needed; It would have helped had the old Chronicler gave him some training before handing over the reins, as that would have made his job a lot easier.

He eyed the stack and sighed. He would wait before he did the crawling through it, instead taking the time to see if anything had changed with Spyro and what the condition of Cynder was. He stepped lazily to the pool of visions and peered into it. If there was one benefit that becoming the Chronicler did for him, it was that he could see visions much faster and clearer than before. He first focused on Spyro, which showed nothingness as it had before. Ignitus shook his head in frustration. Next he focused on Cynder, and this time got some results. He saw the vision of her flying in the night, landing on the island, and drinking her fill of strong liquor. He didn't know if he should laugh at the prospect of Cynder being drunk or worried that she then took off not too long after she had finished downing two bottles of it.

He was most perplexed by the entities that had appeared before her and teleported her to solid land. It would have to be another topic of investigation that he would have to go through. He thanked the ancestors that she had made it safely, but cursed as he saw the hazy outline of the figures that had been he had shown her before. "Just wonderful," He said out loud with even more frustration. "Now the two most powerful dragons we have are both compromised." He had warned her not to go to the far-off land, and she had gone anyway. The implication that this had on the future could be immense, and Ignitus sought to look into the future to see what is to come with the future being changed by the series of event. He peered back down into the Pool of Visions, and waited for the glimpses to manifest in the waters.

He began to see visions, more than he ever had before when doing this. One by one, a new picture appeared before him, leading him into a sort-of trance-like state of mind as he pondered over the images before him. He was unable to look away as perpetually more disturbing images began to violate his eyes. He had seen many bad things fighting the Dark Army in the Dragon Realms, but these things were downright horrid. It wasn't until one of the static images jumped out at him that the trance was broken. The fear on his face was more than enough for anyone to tell that he had seen things that he had rather not have seen.

Long before the sun had risen, the barracks in Fort Ledura had already been awoken hours before. Lyle had finally gotten adjusted to his new sleeping schedule and was quickly climbing the ranks as a great mounted lancer along with showing the fledgling signs of being a great leader. He was thankful for his position, as that would keep him away from direct fighting as they would be the flankers that would get in behind enemy lines and do as much damage as they possibly could before retreating as to avoid direct conflict. If anything, they were more skirmishers than they were the cavalry that was expected to punch through enemy lines.

They had completed their rounds and were returning their mounts to stables where they would be later fed and watered. The observers on the walls of the fort proper were pleased with that they saw, especially the VIP of the observers, a Field Martial viewing the proficiency the forces under his command. For this general, he had to be sure that this army could stand against the might of the dragons. Viewing Lyle's cavalry unit was giving him some reassurance that it could be done with the way that they operated and preformed. He smiled down at him from a distance. He didn't need to ask for approval as his rung on the leadership ladder was high enough to dwarf all of those at the fort, he was courteous enough to ask to go see the aspiring lancer. He was given immediate approval, but was not sure if they did it in fear of a court martial or they were supportive of him doing so.

It was a lengthy walk through the forts seemingly maze-like series of corridors and rooms. He eventually made it to the stables where he found the young Quillian without trouble. Lyle had finished up tethering his mount and was about to get the hay from hayloft, the Field Martial stopped him in his tracks.

"Lyle Arren, I'm Field Martial O'Brian. I have seen how well you and the rest of your unit has preformed out there, care to tell me more about it?" O'Brian said. He was better at leading troops than he was at being social.

"Yes, sir. We are a cavalry unit that has specialized with flanking and skirmishing behind enemy lines."

In a bid to test the Quillian's knowledge, he continued to probe for information even though he already knew all of the answers. "What is the purpose of skirmishing behind the enemy lines?"

"Sir, it is to disrupt their logistical capabilities. Burned food stores and spilled water leaves less for the enemy combatants. We might also come across their command posts, which are better off destroyed than left standing."

"What if you come across an infirmary?"

"We take them prisoner and continue treatment and ransom them back to help fund out efforts."

"No."

"Sir?" Lyle was confused at this revaluation. Had the training books been wrong in what they were supposed to do? "The book says to do what I had just described."

"I'm telling you as your field martial that the book for this was is wrong. If you come across an infirmary, you put all of them down and burn the rest."

"Permission to speak freely, sir?"

"Permission granted."

"That's a dumbass decision. That will only prompt the enemy to use more savage tactics and treat our wooded the same way. We are fighting dragons, a healed soldier is better than a dead one."

O'Brian was beginning to like this kid. He had the balls to actually low-key insult the person in the highest military position. But what he said was true, and O'Brian had heard exactly what he was listening for. "You're smart, kid. You've given me some confidence in this army." He outstretched his hand. Lyle didn't hesitate the offer. "I think that you progress deserves a little reward. What would you like?"

Lyle was surprised that he had already been offered a reward. He wasn't going to turn it down, but wasn't going to go overboard with it. "two days of leave; I wish to pay my mother and father a visit, but the journey is quite lengthy from here to Mystic Springs."

"Done."

"Re-really?"

"Yes. Now go."

"Can we go inform the Brigadier General of my departure before I leave. A court martial is still a court martial even if I'm found innocent."

"I will go inform him right now, you better start making tacks. You got a long way to go."

"Yes sir."

Both O'Brain and Lyle walked out of the stables and back to the fort. In the case of O'Brian, he made his way to the office of the Brigadier General that was in charge of the cavalry regiment. For Lyle, he made his way to pack his things at the living quarters. By the time Lyle had his things packed, a soldier walked in and greeted him. He had been sent to escort him off the base as to prevent the guard patrol from thinking that we was trying to sneak off of the fort. Rather than having to take the long way home on foot, Lyle had gotten the bright idea of using his warhorse to take him home much quicker. The guard was at first replenishment, fearing that he would be punished for not stopping him. Lyle quickly saddled the horse and mounted it swiftly. The guard shook his head in disappointment, but walked by his side as he casually walked off the fort with a very expensive animal.

The brigadier general and Field Martial O'Brian were both able to see Lyle leaving on the warhorse. The general was livid that he had the gumption to take it off base property knowing that the horse was not his property. O'Brian only laughed at the sight. He quickly put down any chance that the general had of going after Lyle, deeming it okay for him to do so, citing that it would only improve the bond between rider and horse. The expression on the general's face was priceless.

/\/\/\

Cynder blinked her eyes as she awoke to a harsh light shining through a small window while her her head pounded with every heartbeat. A wave of nausea permeated her being, with the residual taste of vomit on her tongue. She knew, as hard as it was to think of anything at the given moment, that she had made a very bad decision when it came to drinking what was in those bottles. And on the topic of remembering things, she found it very difficult to remember much of what happened after she had left the island that she had landed on two nights previous. Little did she know, but that would have been her first and probably last time drinking any alcoholic beverage.

First thing's first was to assess her surroundings, which was clearly not some palm tree covered island or sandy beach that offered a welcome to any wayward traveler. What she was met with was stony walls and thick metal bars. Not good. It was evident that she was thrown into some kind of jail cell. Well, that was no problem to get out of really, especially since there was nothing that was magically bounding her to one place or person like the Green Snake necklace did. In fact, there was no sort of restraining equipment attached to her at all. Things were slowly looking better for her situation, but the bodily effects that the alcohol she drank were still strong, and made it difficult for her to concentrate enough to melt into shadow and slip away.

And another thing: where even was she? Sure, she was in a jail cell but where exactly _was_ the jail cell? It was this realization that enlightened her to the greater circumstances. She had made it! Problem was that it appears that they already didn't take too well to that. While it was still hard to concentrate, it was time to be formulating her next plan. She had arrived, but now who does she go to in order to try some form of negotiation? The best plan of action was to start her way at the bottom and work her way up the chain of command until she reached the highest authority in this land.

It was a good start to the plan, now she had figure out the best way to go about the negotiation. She saw that massive army in the pool of visions, so it was clear for the get-go that they were serious when it came to their planned invasion. How do you convince an army that large to demobilize after spending that much time doing so? It was a hard task to do, especially since those actions carried a lot of momentum when it came to military maneuvers. Of course doing it in such a way that would lead to no bloodshed was the much more preferred option, but if push came to shove, she way ready to fight this army just like her and Spyro fought the Dark Army to great success. Everything was coming together nicely.

That all got interrupted when she heard footsteps approaching. Auditory clues provide a lot of information, and she could tell by the sound pace of the approaching thing that it was bipedal and was likely wearing some kind of footwear. She sat up from her sprawled out position and faced the metal door on the other side of the bars that separated her from the rest of the building. The figure in question stopped and looked through a vision port through on the metal door on the other side, in which the creature ran quickly back down the hall only to return with more creatures. Cynder tensed up as there was no telling what these creatures would do to her. While not in the best of shape for it, she was ready to fight her way out of here if things went south. On the other side of the door, the faint sound of mechanical movement was heard, and the sound of the door squeaking open echoed throughout the small cell, hurting her ears in the process. There in front of her was the silhouette creatures in question, which was hard to see in the bright light with her eyes being overly sensitive to light at the moment. It slowly walked forward further into the cell, and all of the details came to light.

The creature was like a cheetah, but instead of a mammal, it was avian. It was a bird, standing upright and tall. It's hands were covered in yellow avian scales with shortened, well kept talons at the end. A pair of wings were neatly tucked in and flush with it's back with reddish-brown feathers. The beak was a dark gray, almost black at the tip, with it fading to pale yellow when nearing its' face. It's eyes were a deep golden color which along with the general look of its' face gave it a very intense, almost intimidating look. Cynder had many question to ask, just like the creature on the other side of the bars.

"Bore da, draig. Sut dych chi?" The bird asked her. The confused look on Cynder's face only proved that the dragons did not speak the same language as the Quillians. Bradan was expecting that to happen. Thousands of miles of separation and linguistic development would naturally give rise to the languages that they spoke.

'_Time to work the magic'_ Bradan thought to himself. Unlike manipulating objects, there was no visible aura that was visible from his forearms. Instead, his irises changed from their deep golden color to the sea-green color. He stared deep into Cynder's Emerald green eyes. Bradan pupals expanded greatly for a moment, then shrunk down to their original size. His irises also returned back to their original color.

"Your language is certainly interesting." He said. Cynder's confused expression quickly changed to that of astonishment. It only took him ten seconds for him to learn her language. Although he wasn't the best at it, as there was a noticeable accent to it.

"Yo-you can speak my language?"

"How marvelous is that? That we both can communicate now despite thousands of miles of separation. Truly remarkable." If Volteer ever had an estranged relative, this had to be it. He was seriously giving off the same vibes as the yellow dragon back home.

"Umm, I guess." She said flatly, show no interest other than the initial that she had already experienced. "Where arm I? Who are you? And what are you?" She asked in a rapid fire succession.

"Well, miss dragon," the creature said, "you are currently held up in a jail cell since these buffoons couldn't find any better arrangements. But I know what answers that you are looking for. This is the continent of Treablesh, and you are in the Kingdom of Quillum. As for what I am, I am a Quillian, but demonyms aside, I am a Buteo."

"Buteo… well that's certainly a name… What's yours?"

"Bradan Llewellyn. You?

"Cynder"

"Nice to meet you, Cynder. I know the circumstances are not the greatest here, but it will have to do for now until better arrangements can be made. Can I get you anything?" Bradan was doing the best he could to be as nice a possible despite the situation that the dragon was in was more than enough for her to be angry, possibly to the point of aggression.

"Something to get rid of this headache and some water would be nice." Cynder said back to him. Although the number one thing that she wanted was to get out the cell; cooperation was probably going to make things a lot easier for her in the long run for the both of them. Bradan nodded and left the cell, closing the door behind him as he left.

This was a lot of new information to process. For starters, it seemed that this species was going to be a lot more intelligent than any of the other species encountered before. While not all that physically intimidating, their intelligence made up for what they were lacking. If that was the case, then maybe if she had stayed in the Dragon Realms and waited for their army to show up would have ended the conflict sooner, taking advantage of that physical inferiority. But it was the intelligence part of it that had her thinking the most. Apes were incompetent because they couldn't tell apart their arse from a hole in the ground, and generally were not all that organized. Instead they relied on physical strength for that. Buteos by the looks of thing had much better organization with tactical and strategic thinking.

She sat in the cell alone for a while, until the metal door once again opened. Bradan had returned with large bowl of water and various plants and herbs. Rather than give the water to her right away, he had begun to work his magical abilities and put is profession to work. The room was filled with a sea-green glow as a magical aura swirled around his forearm. From Cynder's point of view, it might as well had looked like the plants were turning to dust as the water slowly turned to a shade of transparent green. When Bradan was finished, the aura around his arm dissipated and all of the plants that he had brought in were completely gone. At the bottom of the bars was a slot for passing a food and beverage tray under to the inmate, which he used to slide the bowl into Cynder's cell.

"I've infused the medicinal ingredients from the plants into the water. It will help you faster and more efficiently than ingestion alone." Bradan smiled at her. Cynder was less than reluctant to try it. Using her powers over poison, she dipped a claw into the water to detect the presence of any sort of toxin. She was surprised when there was none to be found. The bird was being honest. She was still hesitant, but a quick taste of the water given turned her from hesitant to indulgent. It tasted delicious despite all of the medicine in it. Perhaps this wasn't going to be so bad after all.

Cynder quickly drank through the all of the water and pushed the bowl aside. Bradan couldn't help but laugh a little bit. "Thirsty, I see. No wonder they found you drunk in the woods." In response to that, Cynder shot him an evil eye, which he did not seem to be phased at in the slightest. "I'm sure that you probably have many more questions, just as I do." They were both in agreement on something

Bradan had used his influence to make things a little more easy for the young dragon. A large cushion was the biggest thing, which made the whole situation feel awkward as Cynder was being well catered to while still being in a jail cell. It was when they were both sitting, Bradan in a chair brought in and Cynder on a large cushion that they began to ask more in-depth and questions.

"I have to ask, how did you get magical abilities, Bradan? I have only seen dragons capable of such things."

Bradan had to think this one out carefully. It was fine if he talked about just the Dark Army, but if he told her about the dragons that the Dark Army brought with them as well as the one that he had killed, that might be more than enough to end the cooperation that up to now was going so well. But there was no easy way to work around that story. He had to be truthful to her about it.

"It's a long story."

He laid it all out before he. The time of peace, the Invasion of the Dark Army, how they almost won, and the flight of the dragons. Cynder was most skeptical at this part, since her knowledge of it was that she was the only dragon aside from the head honcho himself. He continued on by telling a vague story of the way they manipulated the green gems, and how they began to turn the tide of battle once again, making sure to omit the part where he clipped a dragon's wing off. He told of the final victory, and hinted that there was continued hostilities that the Quillians had was against not the dark army, but the dragons that it deployed.

"I don't recall there ever being more than one dragon in the Dark Army's ranks and certainly not thirty." Cynder said in a very skeptical manner. Out of all the people to know about the Dark Army, it would be her.

"There was that many, I can tell you that right now."

"I know for a fact that there was only one."

"Okay then, how do you know? Because I can go gather history books from across the kingdom and they will corroborate the same story." Just as Bradan had been reluctant to tell Cynder his backstory, she was equally reluctant to tell him hers.

"It's because, well…" Cynder hung her head low. "I was forced to be a general in the dark army."

Bradan didn't know how to exactly react to that. On one hand, those soldier instincts wanted to strike her down right then and there, but his logical alchemist side was highly skeptical of those claims. "But you don't hardly look like you are old enough for that at all. And certainly not for when we had out problems with the Dark Army."

"It's a very long story which I don't want to go into details now, but basically my egg was stolen before I was even born, and they corrupted me not too long after I hatched. The corruption made me older, a much more sinister form of what I am now. I was an adult for much of my life before now. When the corruption was dispelled, I became young again, to what age I was actually supposed to be instead of what I was put at." her response was intriguing, but prompted a question that he knew wouldn't be the best question to ask.

"So, how old are you then?" He was correct about his assumption. Cynder was taken aback by the question. Perhaps there were thing that transcended cultural boundaries. "I'm asking for the record."

"Eighteen." that was simple enough. Assuming that she had been hatched for a few months to allow for developmental time before her aforementioned corruption, then that would defiantly put her younger than the Dark Army's invasion by a little over two years, which gave a big gap in the information. Perhaps she was the proverbial 'last of her kind.'

"Thirty-four" he said back. "So, why did you come here?"

Cynder faced a dilemma. She could lie about it to give herself an advantage, but if exposed would set her back significantly. Like Bradan had done, she would go about it in a more indirect way. "I am here to negotiate." That was a little to vague for what she was going for.

"Negotiate what exactly? We aren't exactly in the best place for anything to do with where you came from." That statement being ironic considering that they were preparing an invasion and if Bradan was correct, the formalities of declaring it had already gone on yesterday.

"I'm here to prevent conflict." She said flatly. "I have reason to believe that you're not quite letting on as much as you actually know." Clever girl.

"Touché, Cynder. As have I." Bradan began pacing back and forth around the cell, giving off a very uncomfortable feeling. "Yes, there is much more that I've yet to let on because frankly if I told you outright, there would be not telling the consequences. If you'd rather stay in blissful ignorance, then tell me now before I ruin it for you."

Cynder sat there without changing her expression or saying a word. Fine by Bradan. "Dragons have caused us much grief throughout the centuries. First when Malefor collapsed the kingdom with his rampage all those years ago and the following dark ages." Cynder was astonished once again. They knew of Malefor's existence, and from long ago at that. "We rise back out of the ashes, restoring what was once lost, only to face down the Dark Army and its' vile dragons that are responsible for the deaths of tens, if not hundreds of thousand of innocent Quillians. To be quite frank with you, we are a little more than pissed off and intend fully to avenge all of those who have died. Not only that, but we are certain that you dragons are responsible for the world's fracturing, which had killed even more of or kind" Bradan was taking on a more antagonistic attitude that even was a shock to him.

"But the actions of Malefor and the Dark Army does not represent the nature of dragons as a whole, nor did the world breaking apart has anything to do with us!" She yelled back at him. "And for_ your_ information, it was dragons that put the world back together." Just like hers, his expression wasn't changing any. He was completely unfazed by her attempt to shift their blame away. A feeling of sudden helplessness washed over Cynder. "You've been preparing for war all this time, haven't you?"

"Yes, little dragon, we have. We have been preparing for this day ever since the last of the Dark Army's soldiers drown in the ocean and before you were even born."

"Why though? Why go through with this senseless vendetta? You will accomplish nothing from this!"

"As I've said, we intend to avenge our kingdom's fallen. All of them: The young and the old, the low and the high, those that could fight and those that could not. All of them had been slain by your kind in one way or another. And frankly we want to show that not every species is going to stand by and take it up the ass while your species sit on your high throne as the perceived masters of the world just because you walk on four legs, have scales, and shoot magic out of your face."

"You know that you are not going to win this war that you are wanting to fight? It's not worth your time an effort to try and live up to some vague notion that you are going to avenge those that have die!"

"Then why did you come here to try to stop it?"

Cynder stopped dead in her tracks. She took the time to do some reflecting, and the realization of what had just happened. He had played her, and played her good at that. She recalled the message from the Chronicler, how it was best for her and the rest to prepare for the invasion rather than try to go and defuse the situation or tackle it head on. The Chronicler knew but she though that she knew better. The message in the dreams that she had weren't and invitation for her to change the future or for her to prevent the invasion all, it was meant to be a warning that it was inevitable, that there was no stopping it from happening.

With that realization, she silently slumped down onto the rest of the cushion, completely in shock at the realization she had come to. The journey that she had undertaken was all for nothing. Bradan simply walked out of the room and shut the door behind him, two guards, locking it as he left. It was now a matter of time before the arrangements could be made that would contain her better than what it was currently. Bradan knew that she was more than capable of getting out, at it was a matter of time before Cynder did so.

* * *

There was nothing but a dark, endless advance of space in any direction. The only sort of illumination was the same as it had first appeared: the beam of dark aether, just as it appeared in the first dream. The figure sat on it's haunches, distantly groveling. The figure was Dark Spyro. He sat there, blank white eyes staring off into the never-ending expanse that was whatever space that he inhabited. He let out an elongated sigh. He began talking to himself.

"I was close today, but that weakling was not compromised enough for my influence to gain significant control..." Dark Spyro said in a voice that was distinctive, not a distortion of Spyro's, but something much more different. It was deeper, and sent waves of sinister energy as it somehow reverberated in the empty space. "But, I can use the death of those insects he called parents as a way to break him further." He continued to sit there before opening his maw once again.

"Those sons of bitches are onto me, though. I can't have them discover me now, or otherwise millennia will have been wasted. I've done a damn good job blocking that nosy-ass Chronicler, but I have to give it to him that using the Guardians as an information relay was very crafty, very crafty indeed."

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**Not as much as last time, but still a great addition. Also, the appearance of the Quillians has been revealed and Sol1234 was correct in his assumption. Fun fact actually, the name "_Buteo" _is a the Latin name of the Hawk family of birds. Also, and I've realized this from the start, there was many opportunities that they could simply fly instead of traveling around on foot. That was completely on me as I wanted it to be vague and have people guessing on what they are rather than reveal it in all but name. There is also an anatomical mistake I made earlier on, which I'm not looking forward on coming up with a way to explain it and it somewhat make sense because I wanted a sort of big reveal.**

**On a side note, I made a discord server for my account. There, y'all can give ideas and discuss the story (and future ones when I get there) or just a place that I can chill with my audience. I'll have the invite code in my bio for anyone interested in it, though I doubt that there will be many people that do it.**

**-AbyssalBlue**


	8. Folly

**Reviewer Response:**

To BunnyBlues: Maybe, maybe not. If you want to believe Pullen's lore, then general Pyra died after a battle in the realms (I think). I kind of like the lore implications of that though so I'm considering.

To sol1234: I'll give it a read when I can

To Darklighteryphon: They were killed off because I really couldn't implement Sparx into the story. I thought of a way to write him off and having him killed with Flash and Nina seemed to be the most logical way to have it done. _Something_ came by and POOF, they're dead. According to lore, the apes artificially harness the power of the gems; The Quillians can directly harness the power of them. In-game, the only ape we see using magic is Gaul (at least as much in-game cutscene footage as I went back and looked through). If it helps you visualize the Quillians, yes, they look kind-of like jet-vac.

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Shameless advertising for the discord server because why not The server features general story discussion, ideas submissions, concept artwork, and more! (Please join, there's only two of us.)

Because I can put links into the chapters, you'll have to copy and paste this into the "Enter an Invite" box when you click on "Join a Server" icon.

Invite code: c8WjUyy

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_Chapter 7: Folly_

_Song: What's left of the Flag – Flogging Molly _

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_In Forum, April 17__th__, 1998_

_The decision of the Second Kingdom of Quillum and the House of Raemes._

_In time, it has been the habit of those who have been wronged by other entities to come to blows against such entities. In the light and aftermath of grievous actions of the species known as "Dragons," We find ourselves in a position where the threshold has been crossed, and that the only course of action that We can take is that of retaliation. While we did not anticipate such actions would be necessary, now has become evident through past transgressions that this is an unavoidable course It is in this document that we list our grievances and our decision regarding the subject matter_

_I) It was the dragon Malefor that caused the collapse of the First Kingdom of Quillum via an utter and blatant act regicide and subsequent murder of the royal house; the rampage that Malefor went on before reaching Castletown and the palace destabilizing the kingdom. _

_II) The subsequent dark ages on Traeblesh brought with it centuries of conflict between the surviving elements of the First Kingdom of Quillum which fought for control. Dragons being directly responsible for such a dark age, as well as the deaths and suffering it caused._

_III)The Dark army's invasion and use of dragons as "super weapons" in their endeavor of conquest twenty years ago. These dragons showed no hesitation and committed violent atrocities, resulting in the deaths of over ten-thousand soldiers and over fifty-thousand innocent civilians._

_IV) Through the observation of a dedicated team of alchemists and practitioners of magic that the cause of the world's fracturing could have only been caused by a species capable of great magical power, as evident by a massive surge of ambient magical energy. As there has been no other recorded species other than Dragons and Buteos that can perform magic, it can only be reasoned that dragons are the cause of the fracturing event_

_V) While on the other side of the same coin, it is very likely that dragons were the ones that restored the world, it cannot be denied that the imperfect restorations resulted in added property damage and more subsequent injuries. _

_It is with these grievances in mind that We have gathered in Forum on this day, and have come to the conclusion on the course of action that We will be taking. Effective immediately, mobilization of the Royal Army of Quillum shall begin in all aspects._

_The Second Kingdom of Quillum hereby declares war on the Dragon Realms._

_Signed,_

_Bevan Canary Raemes, King of The Second of Kingdom of Quillum_

_Jadney Kathmille Raemes, Queen of The Second Kingdom of Quillum_

_Parker O'Brian, Field Martial of the Royal Army of Quillum_

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**As promised, the declaration of war. It's not the best that it could be, I feel like keeping it short and sweet does a better job than long and rambling. Also, I did a small addition of adding Jadney's and O'Brian's signature to the document too. One, because I feel like she had every right to do so and deserved to, which would have made it more impactful for Bevan. Two, it's also a mobilization order, and since O'Brian is the Field Martial, I fell like he would need to approve of the mobilization. With that out of the way, let's get to this chapter. **

**Formatting notes: Because the Quillians do not speak English, to differentiate their dialogue when dragons are present in the story, brackets will appear around their dialogue. ["This right here is the perfect example."] If they are speaking English, then no brackets will appear. If there is no dragon around and they have dialogue, normal quotation marks will appear as well.**

* * *

Spyro flew lazily through the air as he made his way back to Warfang. He was in no rush to get back there, on top of the fact that he was in no mood either. He cursed. "To think that the one day that I find some peace is also the day that those that I hold close were murdered. May the Ancestors damn those responsible!" he shouted out. There was no reply. In the grief of it all, he recalled all the times that he had Flash and Nina, as well as Sparx. His mind couldn't help but gravitate towards the memories that he made with Sparx. To think, had they not been playing hide and seek that day, he might have never gone on this amazing journey.

All of his memories flashed before his eyes of the two of them together. The day that the left the swamp and found the Ignitus. The inhospitable planes of Dante's Freezer and caves of the Munitions Forge. The lush fields of Tall Planes and the almost ethereal Concurrent Skies. That was just the beginning. The time that went looking after Cynder when she left the temple that fateful night before the Night of Eternal Darkness. Even after all of that, there was also the events leading up to their fight against Malefor. He was there by his side for the majority of the journey. It was more than enough to bring tears to his eyes. The strongest dragon in the world was reduced to an emotional mess.

He wouldn't believe it, he couldn't believe it. It was understandable that they might have chopped down the tree for firewood had they not been there ward off whoever did it, but they had. Who in their right mind would just casually murder three innocent dragonflies? All of this was filling the dragon with anger and hatred to whoever did the appalling action. The swamps were a place that most other species avoided inhabiting – disease, stagnant water, and a ton of mosquitoes are not a thing that screams "Come live here!" Doing a head check, none of the species that he has ever encountered would travel through the swamps, save for the apes because the old dragon temple became their base of operation in the swamp. There was one thought that he assumed would go through the swamp if it meant achieving their goals, and it was that of the invading creatures that Cynder kept talking about and went off to try to stop the invasion for happening. Had they already arrived in the realms and were planing their movements through the swamp?

He did not know and probably did not want to know. All he wanted to do was get away as far as he could from the swamp to ease the pain. Yes, it was running away from it, but now was not the time to linger around the death of those that he loved, especially when he knew that Dark Spyro was trying his all to be let out. Spyro would not let that happen, not now, not ever. He continued his flight until the large mushrooms one by one gave way to normal trees, and the smell of fungal spores no longer saturated the air. The further away from the swamp he flew, the more and more he began to accept the fact that his family had been killed, but denial and anger was the first of a long, sometimes recursive process.

As the forested planes gave way to rolling hill, and eventually mountains, he shifted gears a bit. Instead of his low and slow flight that he had carried on ever since he left the swamp, he adjusted his speed and altitude to that of high and fast. He wanted to get back to Warfang quickly without anyone from the planes outside the city or anyone inside to see him. Being the savior of the world was great and all, but that meant sacrificing something in the progress: your time and space. He was lucky that nobody had seen him leave the city or were not bothered enough to fly after him. He would make sure that it was the same when he arrived at the landing at the temple.

A partially cloudy day was great for that. He hid away in the clouds so that none could see him, at least not without some form of assistance. Getting over the city was the easy part, finding exactly where the landing is was not. He would have to guess its location location-based upon the general feel of where the temple in the city was. He went on instinct alone and dived from the sky into the city below. To Spyro's dismay, not only was he wrong when it came to where he was going to end up, he was on the complete other side of the city. There was no great way to get out of his dive without gaining the attention of the public in any way. He was jealous of Cynder and her ability to melt away into shadows, as it would have given him a great deal of help. His orange wings snapped open as his descent was slowed significantly. Beating his wings to slow himself further, as expected, drawn attention away from whatever else everyone was doing and onto him.

Naturally, there were those that wished to get close and personal with Spyro, and those that did were immediately pushed aside as he walked silently through the streets of the city towards the Temple. After a while, those with somewhat of an interest in him went back to what they were doing previously while those with a greater interest in him continued to follow. Eventually, he made his way back to the plaza that night that he and Cynder had made it snow. It was a happy memory that he was more than glad to recall, but the moment was ruined by a straggler that continued to follow him ever since he landed. A pink dragon named Ember.

It was no secret to him that Ember had a massive crush on Spyro, possibly to the point of sabotaging his relationship with Cynder if it meant allowing her to share the same bed as the savior of the world. He was in no mood to put up with her antics. He stopped dead in his tracks right next to the fountain, waiting patiently for her to get right up next to him. And walk right up next to him she did. At first, Sypro acted oblivious to what was happening, which is exactly what he wanted. What he didn't expect was for her to give him a prolonged kiss on the cheek. He waited for her to cross the line and she did right then and there with our prior build-up. At that instant, he willed the water from the fountain onto her feet and legs and used his ice breath to free her feet solid, immobilizing her.

"Sorry, Ember, but I am in no mood to put up with your antics."

"You jerk! Unfreeze me!" She yelled. Spyro only smirked back at her.

"Your a fire dragon, use what Pyra has taught you to unfreeze yourself.

Or have you been daydreaming too much to pay attention?" He spat back. It was a roast that even Cynder would be proud of. As much as she tried, she was unable to free herself from the ice. "It's gonna be a hot day today, give it an hour and you'll be out in no-time." Spyro walked off and continued on his way to the temple. Ember continued to try and failed to free herself once again. It would be a long day for Ember.

Spyro eventually made it to the temple without any other interruptions. Surprisingly, he got back to his room without encountering anyone, not even a mole. He plopped himself down on the bed cushion where he could finally have the time needed to himself to grieve. And grieve he did. Almost as soon as he relaxed his muscles, he became a bawling mess. The cushion was good enough at muffling the sound of his cries that not even the large and heavy footsteps outside of the door did take the chance to double-check. At least to the first set of ears it did. The door slowly creaked open.

/\/\/\

Cyril was the first to notice that Spyro was gone. Ever since there was that outburst that he had in the mess hall, Terrador, Volteer, and Pyra tasked themselves with making sure to occasionally checking in on the purple dragon in case things went bad or to spread the news that things had gotten better. While he was angry that he had not told him and the rest of the Guardians that he was leaving, leaving the note was better than not letting them know at all. He made his way back from the living quarters to the dojo, where the last of today's elemental lessons were being taught by Terrador.

To Cyril's luck, Volteer and Pyra were also in the dojo watching the young earth dragons practicing their elemental abilities. To say that the dojo was a mess would be an understatement. Scorch marks left from fire and lightning attacks, cracks in the elegant stonework from exploding fireballs and launched icicles, and general wear and tear from all of them. The reason why Terrador was last is that with his mastery of the earth element, he could easily use his powers to repair all of the stonework in the room. And with the last of his students leaving the temple to return to their homes, he began to mend the stone.

The room was filled with a deep green colored aura began creeping across the floor and up the wall. All of the damaged stone that the aura touched began to repair itself, returning to the state it was in before the damage of training four elements in the same room one after the other. Once the process was done, Terrador let out a long sigh of relief as the schooling was over and that they could go about the rest of their days in relative peace and ease. The rest of the Guardians smiled and thanked him for maintaining the dojo. They all sat down in the large, cavernous room. Cyril was the first to talk.

"I walked by Spyro's room and she was not there." He said. The other Guardians started to get a feeling of unease. "However, I did find a note from him. He says that he was doing well, that he did not have any of his nightmares last night. In a celebration of this, he was going back to the swamp to visit his dragonfly parents."

"I wish he would have told us directly rather than just leave as he did," Terrador said, echoing what Cyril had thought. "At least we know that he might be getting better."

"Yes, yes, but if the nightmares are not present, then does that mean that the Chronicler can now communicate with him?" Volteer asked. Cyril shook his head.

"There was no mention of restored communication." There was a silence in the room. Their previously held assumption about the nightmares and the lack of communication from the Chronicler might have very well been disprove right then and there. If that was the case, then they had to find a way to remedy both the nightmares and communication blockage.

"Well, I hope that he is enjoying his time of peace. If anything, paying his foster parents in the swamp might make things better for him." Pyra said to them all. There was another round of silence.

"Do you think that positive emotional stimulus is something that can help cure him, Pyra?" Volteer asked the fire guardian. "If my observations are to be correct, you gave him a positive emotional input that might have broken a feedback loop that was feeding these nightmares, therefore giving him a brief moment of serenity in his repose." She was not sure how to answer that at first thanks in part to the complicated language that he loves to use.

"I am not too sure of that. It might have, but we don't know if it was just an ordinary lapse or if it helped or not. Maybe you should use that scientific mind of you and do some tests when he gets back?"

"I certainly could. We will never know unless we try our options." He said with enthusiasm. Pyra giggled at how quickly he accepted the offer, even without thinking it through all of the ways.

"Thank you, Volteer."

"You're welcome as always." The yellow dragon smiled back.

"I hate to be the breaker of a good conversion, but we have a governance decision to make soon that requires all of us to be there. Perhaps we could continue this after we finish?" Cyril said, serious as ever. They all looked at each other and nodded.

"When when getting through, let us reconvene in the room with the Pool of Visions. There we can continue to discuss this matter. Pyra, if you may, we could use some foresight."

"I can surely provide," she replied.

"Good, good. Now, let us be on our way. We have time to pamper ourselves to look presentable before we meet again at the governance decision."

All of the guardians left the dojo for their respective rooms. As they left, the statue in the likeness of Spyro and Cynder began to rise back up, filling most of the room's space with its magnitude. As that all walked down the hallway, they passed by Spyro's room. Naturally, the heavy footsteps of Terrador drown out much of the sound that would have been emanating from the room if Sypro had returned already. Cyril thought had much better ears than the rest of them, and heard a faint sound from inside the room. Naturally curious, he waited by the door as Terrador continued to walk down the hallway. His suspicions were correct. There was someone inside the room. With Cynder gone, that left only one person that could be in the room.

He opened the door into the room and slowly walked in. The muffled sound became more clear and the source was clear to see. Spyro had returned but has experienced a significant emotional event in the process of his journey back to his roots. Naturally, Cyril had every right to be concerned.

"Spyro, is everything alright?" The icy blue dragon spoke in a very cordial voice. Spyro looked up at him from the sleeping cushion and saw the purple dragon's face. He had turned a shade of a slight shade of red from all of the crying that he had done. Cyril's question had been answered without any need for words at all. "Oh, Ancestors… what has happened that has gotten you distressed like this?"

"We-well, When I-I went to the swamp to see my-my parents. I found them… dead. Sq-squashed like houseflies."

"Oh my..." Cyril walked up and sat down next to Spyro. "What of Sparx? We haven't seen him in a while."

"Him too..." Spyro clenched his eyes shut and bawled more. Cyril was at a complete loss of words and of what to do. Sure, there were the typical responses that he could give, but those were cliché and wouldn't do anything that could help him. He knew what it was like to lose those that were close to him – fighting wars and losing someone close to you – but unlike Spyro, his parents died from old age rather than being brutally murdered for dragonfly standards.

"Do you need some time by yourself?"

"Ye-yeah, that'll be fine."

"Okay, I'll be on my way then. Do you need anything?"

"Preferably you did not tell the others about this. I do-don't want all of you to w-worry to death about me."

"I wouldn't recommend that, but I will comply. I'll be back in four or so hours to check up on you. Is that okay?"

"Yes, that's fine."

Nodding in understanding, Cyril lifted himself off the floor and slowly walked out of his room, closing the door behind him as he left. He felt terrible for not being able to do anything. But then again, that's how the world works. Not everything will go your way and sometimes there is nothing that can be done about it. This was one of those cases. The world showed that not everyone was immune to the reaper, no matter how the reaper got to you. And the world showed that even someone wise enough to make the decisions that dictate the governing of the realms lacked the knowledge to deal with a situation that everyone eventually goes through.

/\/\/\

A group of Quillian scouts was hiding out in mushroom forest what little ruins were left of the original dragon temple. They had set up camp in a small crater where a campfire was built, over which a wild bore was being cooked over its leaping flames There were five of them altogether, a small part in a much larger network of scouts and spies. For all intents and purposes, they were the first combatants when the war officially kicks off. To be specific, in their mission briefing, it said: "When war is officially declared, mission task is to switch from reconnaissance to sabotage of enemy logistical assets." They were the best pick for the job as they knew the Realms better than any other Quillian did. What came into question was that of their total impact doing that. The Realms were much larger than what those back home though it was. Traeblesh might have been 4 million square miles, but the Realms as a whole might as well have been 6 million. That's not including any land not under the dragon's rule.

Thankfully for them, their particular cell of reconnaissance agents had not roused any suspicion as to their presence. That could not be said for all of them. They had heard the news that one of the scouts in the Avalar region had been jumped by a cheetah. Luckily for the Buteo that was jumped, she quickly put down the cheetah where it was, but in a panic dropped her things to high-tailed it out of there before any reinforcements of the part of the cheetahs could arrive. Nobody blames her for doing what she did, but it did leave behind a good bit of documentation behind and solid evidence of their presence. Even then, it wasn't like their language or writing system was the same so there was no real value that the dragons or their allies could make of it.

It was certainly a tough life for them. Survival here was harsh, but then again, it was their task to scout out the area that included the large forest of mushrooms. They were expecting contract and die from some form of lung disease for being in the fungal spores for so long. And it's not like they would find much if they ever came to this place forsaken by the gods. At least they had their fire though, as it helped remove the spores from the air.

"Has anyone been down the river yet?" One of them asked.

"I have. It was just a flyover though so nothing special. If you keep going far enough, it dumps out into the ocean," another one replied, calmly sipping water from a flask.

"Anything remarkable other than that?"

"I mean, you have inhospitable land just like this here. It's completely uninhabited and serves the dragons or their allies any strategic purpose to defend. It could be a great staging area for soldiers seeing as how far inland the river runs."

"Good, Good. Anyone else got something they want to share?" There was nothing but silence. After the news of the scout being jumped, they were a little more than reluctant to go out freely as they had before. And they were a little more than reluctant to move when they heard the sounds of something approaching them. They had gotten accustomed to the sounds of the ambient wildlife in the area, but this would be a little different. Instead of the sound of some feral animal, they heard speech.

"How much further before we get there, Ma?" said a young voice, slowly getting closer.

"It's not much farther, son."

To the Buteos, their words did not make any sense to them. It didn't have to through for them to understand what was happening. They were about to be discovered. And their fire let off more than enough smoke and light in the mushroom forest to be a beacon to whoever passes by. Slowly and nervously, four of the Buteos drew their weapons from their sheaths and one began prepping a crossbow for firing.

"Here we are. This is where the old dragon temple was. When Malefor returned, he ripped the temple straight out of the ground and made it his lair. It was an insult to our kind because he knew how sacred that we held it, and perverting it was his way of getting at us."

"There's a couple of ruins left! Can we look through them?"

"Sure, just make sure that you don't get out of my sight, Okay?"

"I will!"

The sound of feet slowly got closer and closer to the rim of the small crater. They readied themselves for a fight. They heard two voices so that means that there was to possible combatants. One sounded young so it wouldn't be too hard to take down. The other one though was a much different story.

"Huh? A fire?"

The voice got closer, right at the rim. The ground underneath the approaching creature gave way. As the creature tumbled down the crater where the five Buteos where sitting, it became clear to them all what the creature was. It was a child, a little green dragon. For an instant time seemed to freeze as they had to come to some tough choices very quickly. They thought that the younger-sounding one was at least in their early teens. This was not the case. This was a child, no older than ten years old. The child quickly looked around to see strange creatures with weapons at the ready along with something roasting over the fire. The child's overactive imagination only made things worse for the Buteos.

"MA! HELP!" the child screamed as loud as its voice would let it.

"Gran't!?" The sound of the mother running towards their crater made their hearts sink to the lowest portion of their body. Fighting a soldier was one thing, but fighting a mother protecting their child was another.

One Buteo form tackled the child to the ground, trying to hold it's snout shut while four others' attention was directed towards the mother quickly approaching. They did not have time to get themselves ready before the mother saw the scene before her. Here in this crater was creatures that she had never seen before, one of which is her son to the ground with a knife in its hands. Needless to say, they either had to kill the mother and child, run, or die trying.

"Get away from my son!" The mother breathed out a quick and powerful earth shot that threw the Buteo off of her son and to the other side of the crater. It was not a fatal blow, but his groaning was more than enough to warrant the mother's immediate incapacitation and immediate medical attention.

["Shoot the bitch and let's get out of here!"] The one in pain shouted to the others. The marksman with the crossbow was more than happy to oblige. He was aiming for a killing shot to the dragon but was unable to get the accuracy needed with the urgency of the situation. Instead of shooting it in the chest, the shot fell short and hit the thigh of the mother. The earth dragoness bellowed in pain as the bolt of the crossbow sliced all the way through her leg and out the other side with the only thing showing of the arrow where it had made its mark was the fetching against her scales. She tumbled like her son down into the crater and rolled right into their campfire, causing even more pain and injuries.

["Someone go help him up!"] The marksman yelled. Two Buteos came to the aid of their injured. They quickly left climbed out. In a flash, they were gone. The mother dragon writhed in pain as she tried to and successfully removed herself off of a bet of hot coals and flaming logs. For her and her son, they didn't know the true significance of what had happened. For the first time, a Buteo and a dragon have made contact _outside_ of Traeblesh. And it would be the first instance of combat in the war. Little did the mother or the Buteos knew, but that would be the first of many battles. The mother and one of the Buteos would be listed as the first casualties of the war, but they would be far from the last.

* * *

Bradan moved quickly with intent to the end of the long hallway of cells. In the daytime, more people were staffing the jail than there had been when he arrived. The sheriff that he had talked with earlier had left for official business, most likely our apprehending those with arrest warrants or dealing with civil matters that could have been solved without his presence. He left one of his deputy's in charge of the office, which Bradan sought out to find before he left. If the dragon in their captivity was to escape, no amount of law enforcement officers with a basic understanding of combat will stop it, but it would slow it down. He found the deputy sitting at the desk that he found the sheriff the night before.

"Good sir, you are going to need more guards at the dragon's cell."

"Who are you to tell me how to work my job?"

"Because there is a good chance that the thing in there has skills and abilities that we've yet to see. I'm sure that you, just as much as I, do not want it getting it loose."

"Not like it would matter. It'll tear through all of the guards you have; four or fourteen, it doesn't matter."

"It's not to stop it from getting out, it to deter it from trying." Bradan began walking towards the door. "I will be back as soon as I can. We need to contain the thing better than it already is."

"Who do you think you are? I don't take orders from some random stranger that walks in thinking they know-it-all prick telling me that I'm not doing my job right." The deputy shouted back at him. Bradan snapped. He whirled around in an instant and with his powers levitated everything that was on the floor, including the chair in which the Buteo at the other side of the desk sat in. It quickly put the deputy in his place.

"I think I'm the only one with the brains around here that actually knows what the fuck they are doing! This isn't like some ordinary drunkard fighting at a bar, this is a dragon. Say it with me now: d-r-a-g-o-n. Do you know what that means? It means the damned thing has powers beyond your understanding. Now, I'm going back to the alchemy laboratory in the royal palace where I can come up with something that can contain the thing better than some iron bars can." He dropped everything back down, the whole building rattling doing so. The deputy behind the desk had no more words to say. Getting new undergarments was his new priority.

Stepping out of the building and off of the porch, he unfurled his wings and took flight with ease. It had been a while since he last had the opportunity to fly, and he was certainly going to enjoy it while it lasted despite the urgency. This was certainly better than having to walk or ride on the back of an animal and certainly much faster. It gave him time to think. How was he going to make sure the dragon – Cynder – was not going to escape from.

He could try to craft something that could magically bound her in one place. No no, that wouldn't work. Provided that she was able to channel enough energy through the magical restraints, they could possibly break due to an energy overload exceeding the capacity of the materials used, alchemized or not. Maybe something that siphoned her reserves of magical power to keep her from using any element magic that she might have in combination with typical restraints. It could work, her physical strength was also in question. There might be no clear solution as to how to keep her contained.

He palmed his face as he continued to beat his wings. This is not a task that he could do alone. There were the other alchemists, his colleagues that he could rely on for support. While he was the best at what he and his colleagues did, there was no way that he could go about doing this task all on his own. He concluded that he would need a combination of magical and physical restraints, and on top of that an overall better place to keep her. With that now in mind, he went through the list of things that he would need and how long it would take for everything to be complete. To his dismay, the process would take some time, mainly in the magical restraints: the energy siphon.

Of course, there were the small magical gizmos that drawn magical energy out of the ambient air for their power source. But they drawl a negligible amount of energy from the air, this would require something bigger. It would take days to complete the siphon, days that they did not have. There was not a better option which that they had. He beat his wings harder to increase his speed; the sooner he and his team began working on the energy siphon, the better. It didn't take long for Castletown to come into view and the palace was not too terribly far away from it either. As the crow flies, everything was not that far from anything. Into the palace courtyard, he landed, which prompted many guards to assemble before him. At least Bradan knew that they were good at the job that they were doing. Because here was wearing the same, albeit dirty clothes he had when he left the day previous, they quickly reduced their response and went back to their normal duties.

Bradan made haste into the palace to the alchemy lab. It was either by fortune or misfortune that he not only encountered his king but the queen as well. This was the perfect time to break the news to them, but there was no telling how either of them would react to it. Bevan, of course, would find an immediate problem with it since there was the war and all while Jadney wouldn't have much on an issue as her homelands were farther up north and in the cold where the dragons did not tread. There was no telling until he did and that is what he did.

"Beven, Jadney, do you two have a moment?" He asked in a very respectable voice. It was a big contrast to how he was earlier with Cynder and the deputy at the desk.

The two Buteos looked at each other and nodded. They had a place to be but could make time for it. "Go ahead." They both said in unison. Both of them chuckled.

"I have some news that you are not going to believe, but I can assure you is the truth." He said. He saw their faces and seen their reactions. Just as expected, they acted differently to one another. Jadney had a look of intrigue while Bevan had an anxious look. "A dragon has been found and is being held in captivity at Mystic Springs. I've seen it with my own eyes."

"Bradan, you better not be playing tricks on me," Bevan said, his voice shaky as his stomach began fluttering. "Do you know the implications of this?"

"Why are you already worrying, sweetheart?" Jadney calmly said to the ever-more nervous Buteo. "It's just one dragon. What harm can it do?" compared to what some could do, that was a massive understatement.

"A lot, my queen..." Bradan interrupted. "I communicated to it. It did not speak our language, so I had to learn hers. It a strange language for sure; very different from our own."

"Really? What did It say to you?"

"It told me her name. It is Cynder. She said that she is here to put forth some negotiations to 'stop conflict.' I believe that she knows more than she is letting on. There is no reason for a single dragon to fly all the way here to tell us that she wants diplomatic ties established. I believe that she already knows about the war and came here to try and stop us."

"How can that be possible? Not even you can tell the future, and you the most powerful mage that we have."

"I do not know. Maybe help from a higher power."

"I wish that our higher powers would come to our assistance. We will be needing it more than ever right now."

"And I wish that you would calm down a bit. I'm losing my hearing and the whole palace can hear you yelling," Jadney interrupted. She had a valid point. The more excited Bevan got, the louder he became.

"Sorry, Love," he said back to her.

"I'm sure that our gods will come to our assistance, we must remain vigilant," Bradan answered back to Bevan. "Anyway, I have note told her that the signing had been done yet, for I am sure that if she had heard the news of the result, it would have not been a pretty sight for even the most hardened of murderers. How did that go by the way?"

"I signed it." Bevan held up his left hand. The black line of dried blood where he had cut for the signing was clear as day against the yellow of the avian scales. "It's healing up quite well but is still sore."

"Oh, the gods… There will be no telling what she would do if she were to hear of it." The atmosphere got a whole lot darker. They all stood there for a loss at what to do with regards to that.

"Well, you two," Jadney piped up, confidence in her voice. "She said that she was here to negotiate, right? Why do we go do that then? You two are worried about what it might do to the point where you are not worrying about what she will do if it can't accomplish what it came to do. If she wants negotiations, then let us go do that. Unfortunately, we can't stop the war now since the declaration was already signed, but we can do our best to led her along into thinking that she is being successful, only to deny her that success."

"My queen, there is a large liability to that."

"I'm well aware of that, my dear alchemist. What I am saying is that if we tell her lightly and indirectly that what she has come to do has failed, then maybe she will go back to the Dragon Realms. Yes, Field Martial O'Brian would have a fit with me as we would lose our surprise advantage, but at least the dragon will leave with little hostilities involved."

Both men look at each other and back at Jadney. They both had their apprehensions about that plan, but it very well could work. If push came to shove, they could still contain her. Bradan wasn't keen on killing Cynder as there were many scientific opportunities to be had if the dragon was still alive. Memories long not thought of came to the surface, and he went wide-eyed with excitement. With the dragon present, there was the chance that gem clusters would generate nearby as well. This was the one chance that Bradan had of getting his hands on green gems in twenty years. Even better if any other types formed too, as they could be studied as well.

"I have to say, Love, I happen to like your thinking," Bevan said, running his hand quickly through the feather on her head. Her mood soured. She hated it when her head feathers were ruffled. Bevan couldn't hold back a big grin. "However, I'm not too keen on how dangerous this could be to us." Jadney only shrugged.

"I'm making you drink a green gem potion when we get this over with," Bradan said, hoping that she would actually consider. With a mind like hers, the alchemist team could use it greatly.

"Sure. Live is better with more magic moments, isn't is, Bevan?"

"I'm sure that I don't want to know those implications, love." All three of them laughed.

"To the point at hand: are you sure that you want to talk up to Cynder personally? She is unpredictable and I cannot ensure that you will be entirely safe from harm." Bradan said very said seriously to both royals. They nodded back in reply. It was settled then. What the two royals would be doing would be canceled and they would go talk to the dragon personally.

"Knock on the door to the lab when you are ready. I have some work that needs to be done there."

"Will do." The two royals said in unison again. Again they chuckled of their synchrony.

Bradan quickly made his way past the two royals and continued towards the lab. He was still apprehensive about letting them get that close to Cynder. He had other things to worry about other than them seeing her. He had to get his team started on the energy siphon quickly before it got any later. Be barged through the lab doors loudly, directing everyone's attention from whatever they were working on to their leader.

"Sorry for the abrupt interruption, but we have new orders." He lied about the part of the order. It was that extra push that he needed to get them to drop what they were doing and get to work building the siphon.

They quickly got to work. The task had been micromanaged down to the smallest detail with Bradan there to advise and provide assistance where it was needed. They needed to get it done and done quickly and Bradan needed to make sure they made significant progress before he, Bevan, and Jadney left for Mystic Springs. It had been about an hour and a half that they worked before a loud and audible knock was heard from the door. Bradan wished his colleagues good luck and that he would be back as soon as he could to help continue their work. He found Bevan, Jadney, and a Royal Guard detail with them. The monarchs were dressed in moderately fancy clothing although not as fancy as the regalia they had to wear to the signing ceremony.

They walked through the castle and out front where there was a carriage had been prepared and was waiting on their arrival. There was also a Royal Guard escort consisting of twenty-two mounted guardsmen two abreast with ten in the front and ten in the back and the other two on either side of the carriage. They were the best of the best, and Bradan placed his trust in them to protect them all. Bradan wasn't so confident. He had first-hand experience fighting with the dragons, and they had the potential to kill twenty soldiers in two minutes flat. If all else failed, the monarchs had a veteran among their ranks that was more than capable of stopping it.

At the order of Bevan, the carriage moved and the Royal Guardsman did with it. Their journey would take some time, but it was a great lull from all of the stress. It then occurred to Bradan that he had not secured any physical restraints. He did eye a forge and blacksmith shop in Mystic Springs that he could commission to make them. It wouldn't be out of their ability to produce the heavy chains and shackles needed seeing as how it was one of the weapon suppliers for the Royal Army. It was rather convenient that Derick and Co. Forging and Smithing just so happen to be in the same place as where they were keeping Cynder.

/\/\/\

Lyle had gone the distance from Fort Ledura thanks in part to him taking his warhorse. The pace of his mount was at a canter, which was at the moment just about the perfect amount of speed that he needed without wearing out his horse too quickly. Mystic Springs was still many miles away, and there was nothing that he could do in the meantime but watch all of the scenery as him and the horse traveled over the packed-in clay dirt road and feel the wind in his face. He could have flown for sure but would have been slowed down by his personal items. Even without items, his almost perpetually sore muscles would make it difficult for him to go far.

It took him a couple more hours to finally reach Mystic Springs. The time was around two in the afternoon – he had left the fort around ten in the morning. It was no small town by any means, but it was small enough to where everybody knew who went into the army, and there was no shortage of people trying to get in his way. It was as if he had become a celebrity since his time gone. Thankfully for him, he could easily keep his horse at a trot and push through the crowd of people. It didn't take long for the people to disperse as he showed no interest in them and therefore wouldn't give them the attention that they craved.

He finally came upon the forge that he had known for so long of his life. They hadn't slowed down one bit, rather it seems that their production has increased since he left. He dismounted from his warhorse and tied it up to a post outside the shop for that very purpose. He casually walked into the forge part in search of his father. At first, he didn't find him. Perhaps he was our running errands or making a delivery to the nearest depot. He eventually found him napping in a chair in a cooler part of the forge. Lyle couldn't help but laugh at the sight before him. Here was the master smith that, with the help of his apprentices, producing a good portion of the kingdom's weapons, was found passed out cold in the middle of a sweltering forge.

Lyle walked up to his resting father and with a sudden shout woke him up. Derick falling out of his resting chair had to have been the funniest thing that he had seen in a long time. His father instantly recognized that it was his son that had woke him for a well-deserved rest. "Dammit, Lyle! I might be worn out but I can still bust your ass any time!"

"Good to see you too, dad." Lyle snickered back. Derick gave a long sigh, but smiled up at him.

"It's good to see you too. Can you help me up out of the floor?"

"Yeah. Take my hand." Lyle clasped his father's hand and heaved. His father quickly got back up on his feet where he threw his arms around his son.

"How have you been? I thought that you had to be in longer than what you have to get leave time."

"Surprisingly, the Field Martial himself came to Fort Ledura and saw my cavalry skills. He said that he wanted to reward me for my quick proficiency and so I wanted to come to see you and mother for a bit before I go back to the fort."

"Well, I'm glad that you've come back for a bit. I could use an extra set of hands in the forge for a day or two." Derick said in a very sly way. He had a way of putting things that made it sound like nothing more than a joke but puts a bit of seriousness in it that let the listener know that he means it. Lyle was smarter than that to fall for it and countered with his own.

"And I could use someone to look after my warhorse for a day or two." Both of them laughed. Lyle would stay and help in the for the remainder of the workday, then go back home and get the social time with his family.

Five-Thirty came more quickly than any of them expected. Closing time was seven, but the process of shutting down the whole forge took its time as the furnaces had to cool and all of the debris of manufacture had to be cleaned up. Most of the forges at this time hadn't been refueled to let the fires die and to cool for the night before new face walked into the forge. He was wearing fancier clothes, some of which made him look more silly than high-class. He noticed that Lyle was free of a task at the moment and approached him.

"Do you run this forge?" The man asked.

"No, but my father does."

"So you are Derick's son then?"

"Indeed I am. I'm Lyle."

"Bradan." He offered his hand for a shake that Lyle accepted. While his choice of clothing was something that he would give him flack for, Lyle had to admit that a firm handshake was a sign of respect, and he was already beginning to respect him.

"Let me go find Derick and he can help you with whatever you need." Lyle left in search of his father. He found him sweeping up metal fragments out of the floor from around an anvil. He beckoned him over to where Bradan had been left standing, waiting for them. Just like Lyle, Bradan greeted Derick with a handshake, although Derick did not accept. Instead, he greeted Bradan with a large scowl and sour attitude. There was something odd about Derick that Bradan couldn't quite put his finger on. He had the look of someone with a long-held grudge against someone but Bradan had only just met Derick.

"You are Derick?" Bradan asked him.

"Yes. Can't you see that we are shutting down for the day? What do you want you inconsiderate prick," Derick said rudely to his face. Bradan rolled his eyes at the insult. This wasn't going to be easy for him.

"Generally speaking, if a business's hours say that it's going to be open till seven, then it should stay in operation until seven," He said flatly. "Anyway. I need to _place an order _for some heavy-duty chains and shackles. If I can get then as soon as possible, that would be greatly appreciated."

"_Sure thing._ A deposit payment of two-thousand Nil now or no order."

"That's extortion."

"No, it's not, its a trouble fee for you coming in here when we are closing."

"Oh really? Because I see one of your apprentices over there shoveling coal into one of your forges." All of them turned their heads to see a young, coal dust-covered youngster shoveling coal into one of the few remaining furnaces that were still lit. "I'm sure that I'm not that big of a problem that you are making me out to be."

"Yeah, you are, not get out of here."

"Why?"

"Because if you don't you'll find yourself with a hammer in your head." Derick walked over to one of the work stations and picked up a hefty forge hammer. Lyle tried to step in the way of his father only to be violently shoved out of the way and into the floor. He got right up to Bradan's face, their beaks almost touching. Derick clutched the hammer in his hand tightly. "Now, you have one last chance to get the fuck out before I drop you dead right here."

"Try me." Bradan's right forearm began emitting the sea-green aura that it always had when casting magic. He was waiting for the blacksmith's next move. He called his bluff. If he did nothing, then it was good. If he swung, Bradan was more than capable of stopping the blow before Derick got close. Before either of them could do anything or Lyle could get out of the floor, another person calmly walked into the forge.

"Might I ask what is going on here?" the feminine voice asked. Before any of them looked to see who it was, Derick already was more than angry enough to lash out at that person too.

"Same applies to you too, you cheating bitch!" He threw the hammer across the forge and towards the female. Bradan acted quickly to stop the hammer in midair. The stasis spell held the hammer in midair where it was. His actions might have saved whoever it was that was going to get hit had he not been sucker-punched in the gut, knocking the wind out of him and dropping his concentration. The hammer quickly returned on its' trajectory that had before Bradan froze it in midair. He didn't have the time to remove of the object's momentum to drop it to the ground. All he heard was a yelp before he got knocked to the floor with a hard right hook to the face. On the floor, he saw who Derick would have gravely injured. He almost murdered the Queen of the Quillum.

Jadney barely hopped out of the way before the hammer flew past her. Naturally, this attracted more attention than Derick hoped for. Royal Guardsmen ran in and quickly restrained Derick as Bevan ran in to see what had happened, and it was pretty damning. Here his head alchemist was laid out on the floor, his wife lucky to not be hurt, and someone in a soldier's uniform who was also knocked on the floor. Derick did his best to resist, but trying to wrestle yourself out of the grasp of the best soldier in the kingdom was not going to get you far.

"You… You are going to regret that decision." Bevan said, furious at the actions that this man had done. He was visibly shaking in anger. "You're not gonna see the sun for a long, long time."

"Just who do you think you are? Highborn thinking that you can boss me around like some slave?" Derick spat at Bevan. There was no chance in Hell that it would actually hit him. That didn't stop a Guardsman from comically grabbing and holding his beak shut with such force that it could break if he wanted to apply more pressure to it.

"I think that I am your king and that you came very close to hurting the most precious thing in my life."

While the Guardsman did not let up on the blacksmith's beak, it did not stop him from trying to talk, "There's no way that you're Bevan, you poser." That was the first time that Bevan was ever called a poser. It was more intriguing than infuriating.

"Better start believing. Guardsmen, you'll be getting a bonus for this." All the guardsmen broke their expressionless and smiled. Money talks. "As for you," he looked back down at Derick, "I'm not all that sure. Attempted regicide entails a high price for the convicted. We will have to wait and see. I've got important business to take care of here, so don't think you are going anywhere."

He turned around and walked over to Jadney, visibly shaken for what just happened. She was okay, but that was too close for comfort. Bradan, as well as Lyle, got themselves up out of the floor too. They too were okay. All of this left Lyle in a massive state of confusion. Why did his father go off on Bradan like that? and better yet why did he decide that violence was the best answer? He didn't know and probably didn't want to know. Lyle approached Bevan and Jadney.

"Your highness," he said, sorrow in his voice, "I am very sorry for what happened here. My father, I don't know what got into him," Lyle lowered his head.

"Don't be sorry, young man. There was nothing that you could do. He was committed to whatever he was trying to accomplish," Jadney replied, her voice still shaking a bit.

"I guess you are right. I hope that this didn't ruin what you were here for."

"Oh no, it didn't. But we need to get on our way."

"Oh, okay. Good luck to you."

"Good luck to you too, young man."

Lyle was about to go about to pick up where his father left off. He didn't know what was going to happen to his father. He saw that he was being taken with them so there was no telling. It was something that he needed a definite answer to. "Wait!" he shouted. The monarchs and their alchemist stopped in their tracks. "What will happen to my father?"

Jadney was first to reply. "We will decide that later. As I said, we have things that we have to get done. I will make sure you know before we leave." Lyle nodded. They left the building and headed for the jail where the black dragon waited patiently for something remarkable to happen or the right moment to escape.

Bradan was still puzzled by what all had happened. He had never met Derick before yet Derick had acted so aggressively to him as if he had been wronged by Bradan. Another thing that puzzled him was why he lashed out at Jadney as he did. He remembered the words he said before he threw the hammer at her: 'You cheating bitch.' He had not looked away from Bradan before throwing it, so there was no way that he would have saw that she was the Queen. But the queen was born and lived to the far north before marrying Bevan and moving down south, so how was it possible for her to cheat on him? It was a whole new can of worms that he was not going open. There were more important things to worry about.

/\/\/\

Cynder was laying down in her cell patiently waiting. The cushion and medicine that Bradan had provided for her was very nice and contributed to her willingness to wait to see what happens. Of course, she would not wait in a cell for weeks while her fellow dragons back home are being slaughtered, knowing good and well that she can escape at any time. It was getting later in the evening and closer to nighttime, which would make an escape with her shadow magic in combination with her black scales would make it a walk in the park.

Amid the sounds of the law officers coming in and out of the building and the increased number of guards, there was a new sound that came to her ears. It was at the entrance to the jail that she first heard it, then it started to make its way to her general direction. It was the sound of dozens of people moving, the majority in unison with others irregular. As they got to her cell door, it was clear that some of them were equipped with metal armor by the sound of metal on metal contact that their armor made. At her door was the presence of many people. The sound of the door to the cell being unlocked was like a song to her ears. All then that she needed to do was phase into shadow, slip in between the bars and out the door to get her freedom.

Out of all of the Buteos that walked in, she recognized the one that had talked to her earlier in the day: Bradan. He was followed by two other Buteos in fairly nice and presentable clothing, and no fewer than four of guardsmen. Cynder was oblivious to how powerful the people were in the cell.

["Wow, so this is the dragon that has made it to our land. Truly awesome,"] Bevan said in the language of the Buteos.

["She does not speak our language, so I will have to give you the ability to speak and understand it."] Bradan told him. Bradan's eyes began to glow sea-green again as he looked into Bevan's and Jadney's. It took a couple of moments, but they could understand and communicate with Cynder.

"So, you are Cynder. I've heard that you came here to negotiate with us." Bevan told the dragon in the cell. It was strange talking in the dragon's tongue and it gave him a strange accent.

"What does it matter now? Your magical buddy there already told me that there was no stopping it." She said in a faux depressed manner. "Who are you anyway?"

Bevan turned to Bradan and punched him square in the arm. [Why did you tell her that!?"] He asked angrily Bradan only shrugged back. He turned to face Cynder again. "Bevan Canary Raemes. If there is anyone that you are wanting to negotiate with, it's me. You are looking at the king of Quillum."

Cynder quickly shot upright with surprise. Did her fate change for the better? "Aren't you supposed to send an envoy or something? It's it when it comes to extremes that you show up?"

"Well, I guess you could say that. And this a rather extreme situation away."

"Fair point. This war of yours... I want to stop it before it begins. I've already heard the reasons for it and I cannot accept that you are doing this for the idea that you will avenge those that a few corrupted dragons with no control of their bodies did."

"For one, not all were corrupted dragons. Bradan can tell you from experience." Bradan swallowed nervously that Bevan had brought that up. He was hoping that he would not bring up the dragon-slaying past but he did, and that only made things worse for them all.

"You've kept more secrets from me, Bradan?" Cynder asked. A feeling of anger slowly started to fill her. "What more have you not told me about yourself?"

"Yes, I have. It was to make things less tense when we began talking to one another." Bradan walked up closer to the cell bars, within arms grasp of them. "During my military service, I was part of a special unit of magic casters. However, our mission was not to a sort of special force to the main army, but one whose job it was to kill the Dragons of the Dark Army. It was just outside this town that we made our fist kill; I was the one to kill it. It was a fearsome red dragon with plenty of old battle scars. When we slew it, it did remain the same size as before.

"We also had our fair share of corrupted dragons that we had to hunt down. Those that were shrunk back down to a smaller size: sometimes a child, sometimes a teenager. It's clear that some of these dragons fought for the Dark Army willingly while others were forced into it. Those that came willingly are the ones that we think about all the time because it shows that it's not just some mind control, it's a willing, sentient being that is making a choice of its' own free will. If you don't believe me, I can prove it."

Bradan held out his hand and the aura glowed again like it always had. It was anti-climatic. It looked like he was just holding his hand out like an idiot. As more and more eyes began to bear down on him, he sought to defend himself from the awkwardness. "It takes just a second..." He continued to hold out his hand until books of various sized began to fly in the barred window. Some of them thin enough to fit through, others got stuck and had to be cracked open just to fit through. Others would not fit at all. Book after book opened themselves to Cynder, who could only stare at them not knowing what she was looking at. He turned to the monarchs momentarily ["I'm not sure if any of those came the easy way or if they broke through a wall to get here."] He faced Cynder again.

"I'm sure that you are not able to understand our writing system, so I will teach it to you." With his still outstretched hand, he focused his magic at Cynder's head and his eyes changed color again to match the aura. Cynder was naturally resistive to the magic as she should be. She didn't know if he intended to teach her the language or to affect her mind in other ways. To his word, the text below began to make sense. "See, I did exactly as I said I would. Now, look at those books."

Page after page, it only sought to confirm what they had talked about and that Cynder refused to believe. Each one in extreme detail documented almost every gruesome detail, including vivid illustration and description. Each book was distinctively different from one another proving that they were not just copied renditions of the same book. Cynder was in denial of it all. She tossed another one aside for the next one only for it to corroborate the same information. It wasn't until she got to archived and copied after-action reports with the same level of illustrated and exposition that it began to set in that what the Quillians were showing her was the truth. It was sad to admit, but in the face of so much evidence, there was no denying it. Dragons free of mind-controlling corruption had willfully slaughtered Buteos without any remorse. Cynder shook her head in disbelief.

"So you see, Cynder," Bevan spoke up. "They can't all be blamed on mind-controlling corruption. They did it of their own free will."

"Okay, what does that even matter in the end? The Dark Army was fighting against all of those that lived in the Dragon Realms. Dragons, Cheetahs, Atlawa, or any of the moles; it did not matter who or what they were. We were affected just as much as you were from this, if not more."

"It matters a lot in the end, actually. Did the Dragon Realms collapse when Malefor decided to kill your distant ancestors?"

"No"

"Did the dark ages of rival and warring factions cause further divisions in your species, one that is still evident even to this day?"

"No"

"Did the fracturing of the world kill thousands upon thousands of people?"

"No. Well, yes. There were those that we could not warn in time for them to make to some kind of shelter. Obviously, there are going to be some deaths because of it."

"Then why didn't we get a warning, hmm?" Bevan asked in the sliest way that he could. It was a dishonest tactic, but it was working well in this situation. It was certainly impossible for them to receive a warning in time from so far away. Cynder was flustered, and he fully intended for her to make the mistake of admitting fault even though there was no fault on the dragons' part for not warning the Quillian's ahead of time; a warning was easier when you actually knew of someone to warn. She activated his trap card.

"Because we couldn't." Bingo! It wasn't exactly what Bevan was looking for, but he could easily get the upper hand now.

"You couldn't? Well, you sure could warn your species quite well considering that there's enough left from all of the fighting that you speak of as well as the World's Fracture that you have a society left. Meanwhile, we are left to die without a second thought." It was a low blow and dishonest at best, but it was effective. If anything, the dragons had experienced more suffering at the hands of the Dark Army than any other species. To suggest that they only made it sound like that did make it harder for Cynder.

"I'm sorry..." Shifting the blame on herself was the one thing that she did not need to do. It compounded off of her own internal issues: The responsibility of the action of The Terror of the Skies, her own failures, and the fact that she had come here only for it to be in vain. The tension within was building, and she was ready to snap.

"I'm afraid that a simple 'I'm sorry' isn't good enough. Go tell that the hundreds of thousands affected by species actions. I'm sorry, little one, but you've come here to avoid something that Fate had willed centuries ago." Bevan began to walk out the room followed by Jadney, Bradan, and the Royal Guardsmen. Cynder was left shaking in anger. She refused to simply let this war go on.

"I don't believe that one bit! I'll stop this war, even if have to end all you personally!" She had finally snapped. In a fit of anger, she was on the attack.

Bradan, Bevan, and Jadney all went wide-eyed in sudden shock and fear. They had not expected that Cynder would fight them right here and now. It was on Bradan's quick thinking that they had gotten out of the cell before they were caught in there when Cynder began her attack.

["Go, Quickly! Guardsmen, stop her!"] Bradan yelled as he quickly grabbed the monarchs and ran out of the cell door. At that moment, Cynder phased into shadow and advanced through the bars and traveled across the floor, wherein a cloud of shadow, she clawed and slashed at the Royal Guardsmen still in the cell room. Their armor proved a little more tough to get through that Cynder had anticipated, but exposed areas such as their wings proved valuable targets for attack, and she exploited that weakness to the fullest extent. The best of Quillum's soldiers had become a bleeding mess on the floor of a jail.

She rematerialized and dashed the door. Normal jail guards were easy enough. Just a swing of the tail blade at the neck and they were as good as dead. Royal Guardsmen in the hallway were harder to take down in comparison. It was because of this difficulty that the Guardsmen further back from her had time to draw their weapons and ready themselves for battle. Unfortunately, there was a restrained and angry blacksmith that was still with the guardsmen. A tail blade found it's mark in his chest. It was buried to where the blade connected to the tissue of the tail. All the worse when the blade was twisted to ensure maximum trauma. No amount of medical care could heal a wound like that.

Cynder's sights were firmly planted on the three running to the exit. With a boost from wind magic, she lunged forth through the hallway and towards the trio. History of the kingdom might have repeated itself had it not been for an ordinary soldier who just so happened to be visiting the town that day. Lyle had heard the commotion as it began all the way to the forge. Something was going wrong, and he was going to make sure that he was doing his best to help. He specialized in polearms and ran around the forge looking for one. He found one. It was the same production lance that he trained with back at Fort Ledura. He grabbed it and ran as fast as his legs could carry him to the jail. It was a strange feeling to be running towards a battle rather than galloping on the back of a horse, but nevertheless, he was en route. He jumped on the porch and busted the door down trying to get in.

There he saw before his eyes a black dragon bearing down on the three visitors from earlier. He was not going to let them die on his watch, or at least he was going to buy them some time to get out. He aimed his lance at the dragon's heart and braced himself for the dragon to impale itself for him. It wouldn't be that simple though. Cynder was too close to avoid being hit but far enough to avoid a fatal blow. The tip of the lance found its mark along the dragon's flank where it cut through the armored scales and into the softer hide underneath. It was a long, glancing blow. I was not the worst injury that Cynder had ever experienced but was more than enough to break its concentration from the attack.

It was in Cynder's brief pause from the attack that allowed for Bradan to take control over the fight. The aura returned around his arm, swirling with the force of a thunderstorm as he froze Cynder where she was. He lifted her in the air and slammed her into the floor, sending her through the floorboards and into the ground below. He raised her back up out of the hole in the floor and did it again for good measure. It was more than enough for her to give up on her attack. To add insult to injury, he threw her against the stone walls where she bounced off and landed on the floor to writhe in the pain of the long gash along her side and the myriad of potential broken bones.

Bevan, his heart still racing from the terror of it all, walked over to and looked down at the young dragon. Her eyes locked with his. He could see it. There was true sorrow. And there was true pain. "You shouldn't have done that. You've only sought to prove my point. Look down that hallway. There lay the bodies of those that you have killed and injured, including, oh, well imagine my shock, another civilian. So quick, quick to violence. You could have simply left, gone back to where you came from and prepare ahead of time of what is to come, yet you thought that the best course of action was to try and murder everyone here."

Cynder couldn't move her head around to see for herself to the extent of her outburst. But someone else could. That someone would be Lyle. He looked down the hallway to see that his father was one of the may on the floor. He rushed down the hallway, avoiding the bodies of the injured or dead as well as the pools of blood. When he got to his father, there was no denying that this moment would be his last. Lyle began to cry. One of the two most influential people in his life was dying below him and there was nothing that he could do about it to save him.

His father faintly spoke to him while he still could. The voice was hardly recognizable. "Wipe that tear from your eye, son." Lyle did as he was told. "I didn't want you to go into the army, but now I realize here more than ever that I was a fool for trying to discourage you. Go teach those bastards a lesson. Raise our flag up high." That was the last words that Lyle would ever hear from his father. Lyle prayed that his soul finds peace where ever that might be. From the sadness within him, a slow-burning rage began to fill him, pushing the sadness out. Lyle was more than angry enough to drive the lance he took right through the black dragon's skull. He walked slowly back to the lobby where Bradan, Bevan, and Jadney still stood over Cynder. His fists clenched tighter and tighter the closer he got to her.

["Now how are we going to contain her now? She can clearly phase through any solid constraints. And given that we cannot guarantee that a magic siphon can absorb all of it, she can just as easily escape from that."] Bradan crossed his arms, pondering what to do with the dragon on the floor below him. Bevan to his side that remembered something that Bradan had not thought of since he had first mentioned it.

["Bradan, do you remember what you mentioned to me a while back when you invited me into your office?"]

["What of it?"]

["Do you recall saying that you were working on something? I think you called it 'metaphysics.' It was something having to do with the soul."]

["Hmm, yes. I do remember."] Bradan stool there in the thought of the implications. He and his team had only accidentally discovered how to separate a soul from a body. He was unsure that if it would work on the dragon. There was work to be done and not a whole lot of time to do it. His team of metaphysicists was also part of the larger alchemist team. They were working on a blasted siphon that might not even have enough capacity to drain all of the dragons' magic. They would have to go through with it soon or risk the damn thing getting loose if and when it recovers. ["I think that it is our best route to contain her."]

["Then I think it's time we all get back to the palace and get to work on it. We can't have Cynder getting loose and we certainly cannot have her getting in the way of our plans,"] Bevan said, patting Bradan on the back. He turned to face Jadney. ["Are you doing okay?"]

["Yes, I'm doing fine. Just a little shook up, that's all."] On top of the shock of all that had happened, she was angered and saddened that out of all of her ideas that this one backfired the most. ["That went horrible. I shouldn't have thought that this was a good idea."]

["Don't let it get to you, Jadney. Most of them are great. It's only a matter of time before something goes wrong. And it's my fault for being that belligerent with Cynder in the first place. I'm sorry for my recklessness."]

["Apology accepted."]

["I'll have to make this up to you somehow."]

["A beach vacation would be nice."] Jadney giggled. The thought certainly did entertain Bevan's mind. Once this all got underway, then perhaps that was a possibility.

["I will see what I can do about that."]

["I was being facetious, but I'll accept that offer."] Jadney gave him a large smile. The two monarchs left the jail altogether, leaving Bradan, Lyle, and Cynder. The rest of the Royal Guardsmen that were were either uninjured or not too terribly hurt followed the out. Twelve of them had come but only seven would return. Three were lucky not to sustain any injury while the four others were not in a bad enough shape to prevent them from traveling. The rest, however, was no so fortunate. They all had perished. The law officers are all dead on the far side of the room too. Lyle grabbed his lance and held it tight. It was no secret that he wanted to kill her right then and there but Bradan wouldn't let him, no matter how much he tried.

["Lyle, I am truly sorry for your loss. Is there anything that I can do to help you?"]

[Yes. Kill that thing right now before I lose what little self-control I have left."]

[That won't be necessary. We have a fool-proof way of keeping her contained now, we just need to get her back to the palace where we can get the procedure done."]

["Procedure? What exactly are you planning on doing? She got out of here no problem at all. What makes you think that you can come up with something better?"]

["Because we did not know what she was truly capable of. Plus, I was not the one that had her put in here in the first place"] Bradan crossed his arms and stood there for a moment of silence.["As for what I'm going to do with her, that I cannot tell you at all. I am sure however that it will contain her without a doubt."]

["You better make sure that it does. Otherwise, I will get some extra training hours in hunting that bitch down."] Lyle just walked out of the jail just like Bevan and Jadney. That left only Bradan and Cynder in the room. It was a surreal experience. She still laid there on the floor, not moving an inch. The lengthy gas on her flank a sizable amount of blood but had finally stopped and a large reddish-black line ran down her side.

"You know what you are in store for now, don't you? This isn't going to be easy for you, but I can assure that you will never be able to do what you just did again. We have the capability to put into place a preventative measure that will ensure your complete compliance."

Cynder was in no shape to give a witty response, but she gave one anyway. "Your last attempt to keep me didn't work. What makes you think that this one will?"

"Because it's hard to do things when your body has no soul."

* * *

As he looked over his pool of visions, Ignitus fell into deep despair. He had seen through Cyril that Spyro had lost his parents and his brother to murder and the place he called home reduced to ash by a fire. Even worse was about to happen to Cynder. He did not think that it was possible to remove a soul from its body, which posed an interesting question if or when it does happen. Would he still be able to contact her? see her memories? Could he still document her life that way? Better yet, how would he word that news to the Guardians to relay? On the other hand, he now knew in detail of the Quillian society and the Buteos that inhabit it. Of what limited knowledge he now had, it fascinated him. It was just like discovering a lost civilization.

With that knowledge in hand, he looked through the archive of dragons to see if the Buteos were correct in that the dragons had gravely wronged them. After his information search, he found what he was looking for. They had a convincing argument for their actions, but not enough for outright justification. It was fueled more by national pride and prejudice towards dragons for their past actions.

It was time to separate fact from fiction to see if their information the Quillian history books were to be believed. First off, they were absolutely correct about Malefor bringing about the collapse of the First Kingdom of Quillum. Malefor's knowledge of Traeblesh came from a nomadic wind dragon that, had he not told him otherwise, would have killed everyone in his flight of dragons. Ignitus couldn't blame the wind dragon for disseminating that information. If he was in that dragon's paw prints, he would have done it too. Being able to look through Malefor's complete book, he see every reason that he had to attack the Quillians.

Strange as it was, it was out of fear that he did it. The Quillians and the Buteos that lived in the kingdom had been progressing their society at an exponential rate. Had he not done the action he had done, there was the chance the Quillians would surpass the dragons in all aspects. All the while without the magical abilities that they had now. It was a power play. He did not want any opposition, and his attack against the Quillians was to prevent them from being able to stop him the first time around. It certainly did stop them from progressing, in fact, it regressed them. It was with the ability of them now to directly harness the power of the spirit gems that they were able to get back on track, progressing at a brake-neck pace.

The second was if the Dark Army invasion story and it was correct but there he found some half-truths. While the dragons caused a significant number of deaths, the majority could be attributed to the apes. Dragons were used at shock troops or interdictors while the apes were the primary force behind the attacks. The Quillian texts say it seems like the majority of the deaths were caused by the dragons, but it seems that they were the most documented.

This move was for resources and a permanent foothold in the world. It thought that because of his daring attack against the Quillians that the only resistance that he would from whatever society the Buteos came up with after the fall of the kingdom. It was not expected that the kingdom would return. Assuming that they were weak was one of Malefor's shortcomings when he ordered his army and what dragons he had attack the kingdom again. The apes were easy to deal with by the normal forces, but it was the dragons that they had the most trouble with. It was the ingenious way that they were able to give themselves the ability to cast magic that allowed them to get the upper hand. Had they not slain many of the dragons in the Dark Army's ranks, things could have been much more grim to the Dragon Realms.

The third was the World's Fracturing. For this, he truly felt sorry for them. The Destroyer's path of destruction was a Westward journey wherein it avoided completely their homelands. They had absolutely no warning of it or the danger that it posed to them. They fared better that he thought that they would have though. But sufficed to say, it was a miracle that they had not died in larger numbers. Ignitus cringed at the prospect that many people were crushed and buried alive due to imperfect repair. That too was something new to him. The world was seemingly repaired seamlessly but it seemed that the further away from familiar territory, the more mistakes were made.

These were interesting times and continued to defy any sort of predictability. The glimpses of the future were changing faster than he was able to interpret what the changes were. There was no certainty was for what was going to happen, and it was kind of thrilling. As someone who didn't want to document another war, he was kind of excited to see what was going to unfold.

* * *

**Holy shit, It's done! There was a lot to write here and I'm glad to say that it's finally over with. I've not got much else to say here, so I will end it here. Again, if you haven't done so, please leave a review and join the discord server I made for the Story. There I can communicate with you, my audience, much better than I can than through the Reviewer Response alone. With that, i end the chapter.  
**


	9. I Will Wait

**Reviewer Response**

**To BunnyBlues (SatelliteBlues now): ****Oh don't worry, it's not fatal. ****Yeah, the ember bit was shoehorned in there, but it was to prove a point. Spyro can and will lash out **_**Violently**_**. I use violently lightly because all he did was immobilize her, but had the potential to do much more harm.**

**To Sol1234: ****Sides will be taken.**

**Note: edited out duplicate paragraph, and other fuck-ups**

* * *

_Chapter 8: I Will WaitSong: I Will Wait - Mumford and Sons_

* * *

A week had passed. The Guardians had been alerted the day after Cynder's short freedom and containment - they were not very pleased hearing that. All of them walked the lonely-night streets of Warfang together as they mumbled among themselves on what to do now. At this hour, nobody but them and the nightshift guard force was awake, making this the perfect time to both talk and get some cool, fresh air. The lack of information was the thing that was keeping them from being able to make a sound decision. Was it really possible to remove a soul from a body? Were the Buteos really capable of doing such an action if it was true? What would happen to Cynder her soul was taken from her body? There was no telling what could happen.

Even more of a hard-to-make decision was not tell Spyro about this in any way, shape, or form of the news of Cynder. No matter how much he might ask them to tell him about her, they simply couldn't tell him of the news, no matter how much they try to manipulate the story. The last thing that they needed was an emotionally compromised dragon chasing after his lover in a vain attempt to rescue her. As admirable of a task that would be, they needed him to be an emotionally compromised dragon able to fight off enemy soldiers.

While that was highly inconsiderate of them to withhold the information of Spyro's lover, they needed him in the Realms more than the far away land that the Buteos lived in. That's not to say though that they were not doing their part, the most certainly were doing their best.

Terrador had already begun drafting war plans for the eventual Quillian invasion, which in his mind sounded completely insane. If the intelligence he had at his disposal given through the claims of Cynder and corroborated by the Chronicler's dream messages, then the whole premise of an invasion from thousands of miles away was an endeavor that did not make sense to a dragon that had decades of battlefield leadership and combat experience. All of them but Pyra – she had been in a position working a nurse at the time - had seen some battlefield leadership position in one form or another. To all of them, the invasion was an enigma.

Cyril was still remaining quiet of the news of the death of Spyro's parents. He would continue to go to his room to check on him every now and then and found some positive improvements. Spyro had reported that the plaguing nightmares had let up in their intensity and frequency. However, he was still dealing with the loss of his parents, which was somewhat of a detractor. All and all, it was sort of unpredictable on how the purple dragon would be next week or next month.

Volteer had continued to dig through archives looking for answers to Spyro's condition. The task was a grueling one, but one that was gaining some progress. The old dragon was not prepared for just how deep that the rabbit hole would go. One potential lead would end with a rare manuscript that would be over a thousand years old - potentially even non-existent. With his current findings, there were plenty of hit-and-miss opportunities to come.

Pyra had been using foresight in the hopes that a vision of what is to come will appear. Of the many, she had seen, without any context made no sense whatsoever. A repeated motif was that of a prominent evergreen tree with a Buteo staring intently at it. Other than that, it was a repeat of what had been seen when Cynder had been there with them. She continued vigilantly for a new vision but had no luck in doing so, at least not yet.

Yet in all of their minds, the thought of the invasion was taking the forefront. If they were to be coming from the north, then the northernmost shores of the Dragon Realms would be their first target. It was easy to order soldiers to the coast, but convincing them of the threat was something that they could not so easily do. Even then, they had the advantage. The northern shore was mostly cliffs with very few access points from the beach up to the clifftops and plains that stretch far into the Realms. It would not be difficult to fortify these positions ahead of time and prepare a defensive of dragon soldiers.

What worried them was if they broke through the defensive line at the shore. After scaling up the cliffs, there would be no telling how far they would march in the plains before a true countering force could be mobilized to engage the Buteos. And that was not taking into consideration that they might try to open up a new front if that one didn't work. A successful defense of the Dragon Realms would require the whole cooperation of all the races, which was spotty at best.

That was not to say they were fucked when it happened. After the previous war, there were plenty of veterans to go around that would have more than enough combat experience to handle any invasion by a force fresh out of training. But there were other factors that were an uncertainty. How far along was their technological progress? It was easy to defeat an enemy that uses sticks and stones but one capable of mass-producing high-quality weapons was one that was much more capable.

They returned to the temple sometime later. They all went to their respective rooms for the night where they would rest for the following days to come. Little did they know that this rest would become extremely scarce in a few short weeks away.

/

Spyro woke in the middle of the night seemingly for no reason whatsoever. 'Ah shit, here we go again,' he thought to himself thinking that there would be more torture by his dark reflection. Time passed and nothing happened. That was a good sign. He figured that if he was going to be awake then he would make the most of it before going back off to bed again. First off was the standard trip to the bathroom where he gladly relieved himself. From there, it was to roam the temple halls and maybe get a small midnight snack or a drink of water if he desired one.

It was a strange feeling to walk through the halls at night, it was a somewhat calming experience. The dim light from burners on the wall gave off the inner walls a rustic feeling as flame danced, casting out light and shadows on the stone walls. He was sure to tread quietly to keep the guardians from waking. Where that would take him was outside.

Spyro made his way to a balcony. He walked over to the center of it and sat down on his haunches. Gazing up, he marveled at the stars. Many people had their interpretations of what the stars actually were. Some said that they were the ancestors watching them from above in their constellations. Others said that they were distant suns where other planets resided. He didn't care which was correct – he would be long dead before anyone would be able to fly that high to find out. Those shimmering dots in the distance were useful though: It gave light to a pitch-black night, providing navigational aids, and giving the curious-minded something to be in awe over.

Navigation… It reminded him of Cynder's journey. She had been gone for quite a bit, just shy of two weeks. Sure, diplomatic journeys take their time, but it was with each passing day that he began to think of her more and wonder what might have happened in that far off land. If he could, he would ask the Chronicler to tell him what had happened. There was, of course, the option of asking the Guardians to relay the information back and forth, which he would take under thoughtful consideration. Until then, he would have to believe in her strength and abilities.

He sat out there a little bit longer before going back inside to his room. This was a moment sent graced by the ancestors. There was no nightmare tonight, nor was there one last night. Those that he did have were much less intensive than the ones that he had previously. They even felt shorter and less painful too. Maybe now he would get better from whatever that plagued him. That though was one that he shouldn't have thought. His dark reflection was always present, even when he didn't feel his presence.

/

When Spyro returned to his room, he joyfully flopped onto the large cushion that he called a bed. He very quickly slipped back into slumber, only to find himself in the same place as he did when it all first began. "Are you kidding me?" Spyro asked with a sigh. He was already preparing himself for what was to come. He had almost become immune to the torture that he had undergone almost every night, becoming mentally numb to it all.

Dark Spyro naturally came to him, appearing to come out of the Dark Aether beam. This time, there was no attacks of the physical or breath kind, instead, the dark reflection just walked up to the dragon and sat down five feet in front of him. "No. I am not kidding you." Dark Spyro said in that very distinct voice again. It sent a chilling tingle down Spyro's spine all the way to the very tip of his tail. Spyro was familiar with the sound Dark Spyro ordinarily – a distorted version of his own – but this was entirely different. There was malice in that voice so strong that it was undeniable.

"Then what do you want? If you are going to torture me like you usually do, then why don't you start and get it over with?"

"Many reasons. For one, I feel a little bit nicer. There will be no disembowelment, or ripping your head off, or reducing you to bones, or-"

"Yeah, yeah. What's your point?" Spyro interrupted the dark reflection. Even a shallow-minded person could see that Dark Spyro was high on the thought of torturing the purple drake, so much to the point where he was getting sidetracked from his original conversation in mind. The entity just stared back at him with his blank and empty while eyes.

"Second is that I can tell you are getting used to this. I can sense it. Every night, you surrender to the fact that you will be coming here to face me, where you will lose every time for as long as I am in control here. You've become acclimated, and I intend on not allowing you to do that."

"What is it that you want again? I can't help but feel that all you are doing is getting off to this."

"I know you know just as well as I do. Full control, not just here, all of it."

"Still not going to happen."

"Very well then… Have it your way."

Dark Spyro vanished in a cloud of black smoke. From there, the scenery shifted from one of darkness to that of a flat grassy field with a starry sky above him. There was nothing for as far as the eye could see. Only grass and the sky above him. It was a nice change in

scenery, sure, but there was something odd about it all that Spyro couldn't quite put his finger on. The thought that Dark Spyro would put him here was in a way more scary than if he had put him in a place to maim him even further. If that was all, then why did he put him here?

He walked cautiously through the field, making sure that there were no traps or anything that might have been used to trick him. There was nothing. This whole place was nothing. The usual time that he would spend in these dreams had passed and he had expected to return to the real world by now. Minutes turned into hours and hours turned into literal days here. All the while there still being nothing but the grass and the sky.

It didn't take him long to figure out just what Dark Spyro was trying to do. He had been trying to break him through physical and perpetual torture whenever he could. He was switching his tactics. Spyro had become accustomed to the perpetual violence to the point where it was becoming ineffective. If Dark Spyro couldn't break him through violence, he would drive him insane through isolation.

No time appeared to pass on the gassy plane, all without charge or interruption. For Spyro, the change was a welcomed one. There was not one-sided fighting that had been the staple of a night's rest. He began to regret it when his belly growled with hunger and throat dried. Spyro even tried to subside on eating the grass at his feet only to become down with a horrible case of diarrhea and bouts of vomiting. Worse yet was the idea that he would remain here until he died. That is if he could.

For what felt like weeks in this space, he starved and thirsted to no avail. His form began to languish as his hide began to pull up against his bones. His decaying state was not his only trouble. By that point, the isolation was beginning to take its toll on his mental wellbeing. With nothing else to do, he looked up at the sky just like he did when he was awake. That was all that he could do.

They drifted in the sky in a perpetual night. In this world of isolation, there was nothing to look forward to or back on – a constant state of meaningless existence. With nothing else but the fantasies of his own mind to keep him company, he shifted the world to his liking. The stars strewn about in a meaningless fashion began to make shapes and patterns that pleased his mind's craving for some form of interaction. For him, the one thing he desired most to see was his lover. The stars above him complied with his wish as they seemingly arranged themselves into her form above him. He began a conversation with the astral representation of Cynder. She talked back.

An unknown amount of time had passed. They continued back and forth to each other, each finding a new topic if the other one got old. Spyro with what strength he had left in his body rolled over on his back, planting his horns in the ground to keep his weary eyes to the sky. As far as he was concerned, this hallucination was better than the nothingness that had been before. They continued on.

"Cynder… I miss you." Spyro's voice was weak but still audible for the starry projection to hear him.

"I miss you too." the projection spoke back in Cynder's voice. It was like a symphony to his ears.

"Please come down here so that I might see you… you're so far away."

"I can't."

"Please..."

"I'm stuck here. I can't leave here, no matter how much I try to."

"I am too. Please keep trying. I would if I could."

Spyro laid there for what felt like years. Both he and astral Cynder kept trying to reach each other, both of them not seeing much success while doing so for obvious reasons: Spyro being physically incapable of and astral Cynder being made up of stars bound in the sky. It was a tragic scene. The tortured mind of Spyro had created a false reality to comfort him in his isolated pain, and yet that very mind's understanding of the stars kept the thing he desired the most from coming down to him.

Ages passed by once again as they continued to yearn for each other. Spyro's figure continued to decay further until his hide was tightly stretched over a skeletal frame with little to no muscle to speak of. Cynder's continued to grow in magnificence as more stars added to the night. Optimistically, he thought that maybe that extra star in her wings would be enough to allow her to soar to the earth below him. Meanwhile, he couldn't help but cry at how poor of shape that he became.

They continued to have their conversations of course. In their minds, there was always something to talk about, even if they had already talked about in one of the many 'days' that had passed. It was at that point that astral Cynder came to dominate the sky with her radiance. Maybe then she would be able to come down to him and relieve him of the desire to see her up close rather than far away. He beckoned to her one more time.

"Cynder, do you think that you are able to come down now?"

"I can try." As the sky lit up with her beating wings, Spyro's jaw dropped with awe. The heavens danced above him in an almost rhythmic fashion. "It's working! It's working!"

"I knew you could do it. But how far away are you?"

"I don't know. I'll be there soon, don't worry."

"That's okay. I can wait… I will wait."

For the first time, Spyro felt alive again. Knowing that the love of his life was no longer bound to the sky and was coming to see him. He saw her running down at him. With what strength he had, he extended his front paws our to meet her with an embrace when she arrived. That would take a lot longer than he thought it would. For what felt like a lifetime, he could see that she was finally close. And like that, she was upon him.

He cried tears of joy knowing that he wasn't truly alone anymore and that his lover finally reached him. Time, however, was a much more degrading thing than he had thought. He felt his mind fading from him and a sense of tiredness that was welcoming, nearly as welcoming as his lover's embrace. "I've waited for so long," he said joyfully, but weakly. Their lips met each other in a long, drawn-out kiss. Spyro's eyes closed for the final time. Both he and astral Cynder faded away along the grassy field. The realm returned to what it had been previously: a dark void and the beam of Dark Aether

Dark Spyro materialized near the beam of was both touched and disappointed. He had to give the purple dragon credit where credit was due. He had not expected him to manifest in his pocket realms what was just a hallucination. And while he was the opposite of all that Spyro represented, he was not without emotion. He couldn't help but feel emotionally moved. It was worrying to him was that Spyro was able to manifest something within his realm. However, if he was too engrossed to know that he was able to do this regularly, then Dark Spyro's plan of breaking him would be significantly harder.

/

When he woke back up, the morning light was shining. He was glad it was over, but deep down was already missing that moment. Spyro knew that the Cynder that he saw there was not real and was a figment of his imagination; he didn't care if it was or not. For a brief moment in what was an entire lifetime in isolation, he was at peace. He remained unmoving from the bed cushion for a while, silently crying to himself – not of sadness, but of happiness.

* * *

It was a late-night order at Fort Ledura that had every ever veteran and fresh recruit's heart-stirring. It was a mobilization order from Field Martial Parker O'Brian himself – well, only signed by him – to prepare for deployment to the Dragon Realms effective immediately. The whole fort was in an organized rush to prepare for the deployment, making sure the horses were fed and that they had all of their supplies ready for transport. Among the first to have everything in their kit prepared was Lyle.

Poor Lyle. He was granted only those days of leave and only that. That meant that the only time that the had was to spend it with his grieving mother and relatives for only a short while before having to leave back to the fort. While he was there though, he a question that he had been wondering for a while since his father had screamed it. "Same applies to you too, you cheating bitch!" His father's words echoed in Lyle's mind. His mother had known the answer to that question.

Twenty years ago, Derick had a girlfriend before he had met what would be Lyle's mother. The two were almost perfect for each other. They loved each other deeply, even sneaking off to do the deed on certain occasions. They had a small falling out that made the relationship difficult but didn't end it. Well, when the news that a soldier had felled the most powerful dragon that the dark army had, she left him for the soldier that killed the dragon. That soldier was Bradan. Bradan did not know that she had just left another man fifteen minutes before meeting him so went along with it while Derick watched closely from the sidelines. The hate that he felt for her was naturally passed along to Bradan. In the end, it was just a big misunderstanding whose consequences would end up in the loss of his life.

With that behind him, he continued to help the others at the fort. They were unsure of when they would be shipped out. All they knew was that they were told to prepare for deployment and that is exactly what they were doing.

He had to think though of just where the war would take them. They were still, by all means, fresh recruits still in training. There was no way they were totally ready to go fight on the flanks or skirmish behind the lines. Unless they planned on having them continue their training but closer to their point of deployment. He could not be certain, but whatever time they had away from the battle was one that he and his group needed to continue to hone their skills.

/

The Metaphysics

team had worked at a brake-neck pace to live up to the goals that they had set. To contain the black dragon in the dungeon below, they had to devise methods to soul extraction and transport that would allow for effective containment. This lead to some interesting discoveries that perplexed them further than they already had been. For instance, a soul could be stored in an inanimate object for a short time before becoming unstable - requiring a host vessel to stay in this world, otherwise, it moves on to a higher plane of existence or, in laymen's terms, an afterlife. They learned that one the hard way. Those set for execution were used as test subjects from then on.

Many working in the project were not sure if they had made enough progress to be able to remove and contain elsewhere the soul of Cynder. Sure, they had been able to do such procedures on Buteos, but dragons were clearly much a more dominant and powerful species than Buteos were. There was no telling if the soul of a dragon held a heavier weight that kept their as-developed procedure from working. The only way to tell was to try it, and they were in the final hour.

Cynder had been inspected by a medical examiner to determine the extent of the bodily injuries that she had sustained from Bradan sending her through the floor twice and thrown hard against a stone wall as well as the lance wound that Lyle had inflicted. It had been determined that the lance's damage had no lasting effect on the vital organs of the dragon. The injuries that had been sustained by Bradan was much more severe. Her legs had been broken as well as plenty of rips. It was a miracle that one of the fragments from the breakage hadn't caused any internal bleeding.

It was becoming clear that her injuries were healing and at a rate that I impossibly fast for a Buteo. It had been documented that dragons could use red gems for healing, but there were no red gems around nor was there any collected for study when they were last generated. Perhaps their natural healing was faster, but that was something that they would have to study later. While Cynder might be incapacitated and unable to do anything without intense pain following, there was no telling when she would be able to phase into shadow again, and that simply could not be allowed.

They worked all throughout the night as they had throughout the week to get it down right, and they were confident that what they had was going to work. With that, they prepared. The circle of the ground with a gap left in it to prevent it from activating before they were ready. It was not all that different than Bradan had prepared it, but more compacted to save on floor space. Then came up with the question of what will happen to her body if there is no soul in it for prolonged periods of time. If there was no soul in the body, you could consider it dead or at least comatose. They didn't want her body to physically die for the sake of containment, so solutions had to be found.

"We could have one of the work shifts living in her body. That way one of us could keep her alive by meeting her needed intake of food and water," one alchemist said. That would work, but that was another can of worms that they were not too eager to work on.

"What about returning her to it for a short while?" another one asked. That out of all of them would be the last resort. They couldn't risk a containment breach. Off to the side, a quiet alchemist raised his voice.

"What if we petrify the body? No bodily maintenance is needed and we can at any time reverse the spell at any time we need to. It might also make for a great decoration somewhere." Everyone in the room went quiet for a moment, followed by hushed discussion among themselves of this proposed idea. It was the easiest of them to deal with, and it wasn't out of their ability to petrify and de-petrify something. The exhausted team ran one more experiment to see if they could do it.

Another death row inmate was brought in and was used as the test subject. They first removed his soul and contained it in a quartz crystal for temporary storage – the crystal changing from its ordinary clear-ish white to that of light blue. They then petrified the body and let it sit for ten minuted before reversing it and returning the soul back to the body. The inmate was completely fine save for the mental shock of all that had happened. They knew at that moment that it could work. They removed the inmate from the laboratory and reset the circle. They were ready for Cynder.

She was retrieved from had become the de facto dungeon of the palace – a guard tower – and escorted to the laboratory. Cynder was visibly anxious for what was about to come, although she was not sure what to expect. There was no chance of escaping this on and she knew it. She had royally fucked up and she knew it. She knew that she should have listened to the advice of the Chronicler.

"Are you ready, Cynder?" Bradan asked her. Bradan meant it in a genuine, sincere way. Cynder only saw it as mocking.

"You're taking my soul, why would I be ready?" She retorted in a very smart ass tone. Bradan leaned in close to and whispered in her ear.

"Because unlike some people where that would gladly destroy it in an instant, I intend on giving you a chance." A chance? He raised back up and made an announcement to the room at large. "I will oversee her soul's disposal once the procedure is completed."

Another alchemist walked forward with a large quartz crystal. "The crystal, sir." The alchemist handed the crystal to Bradan, who placed it gently down in the circle along with Cynder.

"Thank you. Prepare for the procedure." He told the other alchemist who nodded in response to the order.

"Bradan, what are you going to do with me?" Cynder asked, her voice quivering in fear - fear if the unknown - of the uncertainty of what's to come.

"You'll have to wait and see."

"Then... I guess I will wait."

Everything was ready, all that was needed was the circle on the floor to have the gap filled, then Bradan took the crystal to dispose of her for good. He stepped out of the circle and look at her for a final time. "Why don't you strike your best pose while you are at it?" He suggested. In turn, Cynder slowly but surely did. She sat tall and proud as if to give them one defiant look before the inevitable defeat. "Any last words?"

"Fuck you."

Bradan smirked. "How classy. I like that attitude." He told her. "Let the procedure begin."

Those that had been opposed to the idea looked away from the black dragon in the center of the lab while those supporting were eager to watch. It was the one that handed over the crystal to fishing the circle with one quick motion of a paintbrush. The circle was complete and the mysterious energy that they still fail to adequately understand came rushing out from it, blasting through the young dragon.

The seconds felt like minutes as they waited for the quartz crystal to fill with color, indicating that it had contained a soul. The crystal began to shift color slowly from its clear-ish white to that if something they hadn't expected: a vibrant golden color. It worried them that it wasn't enough to remove the soul because of the time that it was taking for the crystal to fill with color. It wasn't until it flashed brightly that they were alerted to the procedure's completion. They had done it. They had finally permanently contained a dragon.

They waited a couple of seconds longer before they broke the circle and the mysterious energy stopped to ensure that the procedure was complete for sure; the dragon in the center was unmoving and the quartz crystal was shining vibrantly. Soon after, the spell of petrification was cast on the still upright body. They watched with amazement as they frankly beautiful form of Cynder began to change into cold, hard stone. The petrification was a bottom-up process, morphing the body's tissues to stone at the bottom and gradually working its way up before the whole body was converted into a statue. Some say that before her face had been converted that her still-open eyes let loose a stream of tiers, the process petrifying them too.

Nodding in approval of the overall success, Bradan picked up the golden crystal and made his way to the exit. There were some in the room that gave him reassuring nods while others would avoid all eye contact at all costs. In the end, it was his decision and nobody else. "Put that statue out in the lobby for decoration or stash that in the sturdiest part of the vault," Bradan said as he gingerly carried the crystal out of the laboratory. "No damage to that statue will be tolerated."

This moment was a monumentous one in the terms of the implication, but Bradan was not all that sure on how to feel about it all. On one hand, he had successfully found a way to contain her but at what cost?He exited the lab and made his way to the exit to the palace gardens and walking trails. He needed to find some living organism that he could put her soul into to keep it from moving onto the afterlife. There was no wild game on the walking trails that he could put her in. There was one other option, however. One of the walking trails had an unofficial path faintly worn out by foot traffic from long ago. This trail was a winding one,

but one that when traveled to its end would lead to one of the tallest hills in deepest part the royal estate parklands. At the top of the hill was a singe young White Spruce tree. He was unsure of it, but he was willing to try. He would bound her soul to a tree.

As an added precaution, he quickly preformed the soul-extracting procedure by cutting up the grass and exposing the dirt in the shape of the iconography and the circle that bound that all together. He wasn't all that devout when it came to dealing with the gods nor the lesser deities and spirits so he was not all that worried that he would face retaliation for what he did to whatever spirit he might have just evicted from their home. Even if he did, he was more than willing to accept what he did to him for all that he has done. With that done, he began the procedure to move Cynder's into the young tree. Once completed, he saw the color drain from the quartz before it had completely lost all trace of the vibrant gold – the crystal back to its empty, clear-ish white color. It had been done.

Assuming that she might be able to hear him somehow, he expressed his apologies. "I'm sorry for all that I had to put you through, but I couldn't have out on the lose again. I also couldn't have you giving any information back to the Realms either. And for clarification, I have nothing to gain from the war but I have to support it because of my profession." Bradan sat down in front of the White Spruce tree with his legs crossed. With that over, it was the perfect time to vent on all that he was feeling.

"You know, a lot of people didn't support the invasion. Remember Bevan? Yeah, even he didn't want to go through with it either. There was no victory condition… We literally could have just occupied a small section of the northern coast of the Dragon Realms and the invasion would have been a success and the war a victory by a technicality. The news of your arrival was kept in the highest circles of the kingdom's political and military leadership but the news of you killing Royal Guardsmen and charging at the King and Queen was most certainly not. If there is one thing that you never do in conflict, and that is going after the leaders, especially if they are monarchs. Now the whole kingdom knows about what you did was is crying for war.

"You've galvanized the nation together under a cause now. I can see the nationwide headlines in the newspapers: "Dragon attempts murder of the royal family! any guardsmen dead!" Heh, I thought the army twenty years ago was large, I can't wait to see how much bigger it can get after that rallies the people. It was an admirable cause to come here by yourself to our distant land to stop a war that you somehow knew was coming in advance, but in the end, you've done the opposite of try to stop it, you've only escalated it."

Bradan lifted himself off the ground and picked up the quartz crystal. He was ready to walk down the hill and out of the woods back to the laboratory. He turned back to the tree one last time. "If it makes anything up for the animosity between us now, I will do my best to take care of the tree you now inhabit. Your body back in the palace has been preserved. Maybe in the future, I will return you back to your body and you can go free. But for now, I leave you as you are." And like that, he was gone. Like a new chapter in their lives, the sun rose on a world at a crossroads.

* * *

It saddened Ignitus of how things were unfolding. Not only was there a presumed large reconnaissance presence in the Dragon Realms as evident by the accidental encounter by the green dragon Petra and her son Gran't, but also the slim chance for the rescue of Cynder was now gone. The Buteo Bradan did exactly what he said that he would. Yes, her body was stone and he soul bound in a tree, but those could surely be reversed somehow. If Spyro could turn Gaul into stone with Dark Aether, then perhaps the power of Light Aether would have a restorative property. Oddly though, the Book of Dragons listed her in the pages even though she was technically not dead. He didn't make the rules on what classifies as death and what does not, he just had to keep the book.

What he did have to document however was the war, which now had enough events to start documenting. Like any good conflict, it needed a fitting name. The Quillum-Realms war? The Hawk and Dragon war? The Buteo-Draco war? The last one sounded the best to Ignitus. He willed forth a book of appropriate size that would be needed to document the entirety of the war. What he was not expecting was that instead of one large book, there were several stacks of books of a massive proportion. They were three feet wide and three feet tall but were incredibly thick. The pages were already numbered, which would have been a relief if not for the fact that the numbers reached an intimidating ten-thousand.

Ignitus let out a prolonged sigh. If it would take this many books to document this war, then he was going to have a task much larger than he had ever expected to undertake and the war much longer than what he originally had thought. With a heavy heart, he levitated one of the books up as well as willing forth a scriber's quill – it was magic with no need for ink as it just appears on the page – and began to write down the casualties and fatalities. The first dragon causality was Petra for being shot in the leg and accidental burning from tumbling into a campfire. The first fatality to be documented was Cynder. He didn't like the fact that he had to write her as a fatality knowing that she was still technically alive, but he wasn't going to have the records mismatch because of a technicality – that would be dishonest of him to do so.

He wasn't sure if he should have that information relayed to the guardians or not. News like that would get misconstrued very quickly if not properly communicated. He was lucky that they had done a good job of keeping sensitive information to themselves. If this information got leaked out to the general public or the ancestors forbid Spyro, then the panicked reactions were likely to cause pandemonium. In the end, he would give in and share the information of Cynder's documented death but explain to them in detail that due to technicalities that she was still alive. Maybe they will keep hushed about it. But it would only be a matter of time before they would have to give in and let him know that she wasn't going to be coming back anytime soon.

He looked back at the stack of book, then towards his pool of vision. By the way that things were going, he was not all that thrilled to go take a gander at them. He gave in and decided to go look in the pool. The only visions that he saw were that of the conflict to come. Those of an army on the move somewhere, a fleet of exotic looking ships engaging ships crewed by dragons and canines, and that of a group of Buteos flying over a group of terrified dragon soldiers.

* * *

**Not a whole lot, but I accomplished a lot that I was wanting to this chapter. Sorry if it took a bit longer to post this than the other chapters, but I was taking it a little easy after that massive 15k word chapter; I'm not going to be doing one of those for while. Anyways, I hope all of you had a great Thanksgiving. I'll see all of you next update.**

**-Abyssal**


	10. Chapter 9: Roads to War

**Reviewer Response:**

**To SatelliteBlues: Thanks for the input. I fixed the errors you pointed out. I'm doing my best to keep everything grammatically correct while adding some higher-level usage such as em dashes. And I absolutely need to proofread more often. Just because things look and feel right when I type it doesn't mean that they are right. Thanks again for the advice.**

* * *

_A Quillum Only Chapter_

_Chapter 9: Roads to War_

_Song: Long Live the King – Twilight Force_

* * *

Today was a day in Quillum that would be remembered for a long time to come. It was deployment day for the army. Buteos all across the kingdom were looking forward to this day; the old waiting for that promise long ago to be fulfilled and the young wanting revenge for the travesty of Cynder's attempted assassination of the royal family and the sabotage that she intended to do to the army. The soldiers based close to the port city of Brandsbury would be the first to be loaded up on the transport ships and would be the first ones in the landing.

For the soldiers involved, it was also a ceremonial event. Bevan, Jadney, and Field Martial O'Brian would be present, so all those involved were shining their weapons and armor, and polishing their boots. This was all about being presentable, and they were not going take the chance of being reprimanded for not looking the part even though they would only be marching half a mile to the pier. A half-mile or not, they were going to look their best. If anything, they were going to look their best for the onlooking citizenry whose desire for vengeance – retribution for the events of the past and now the present – they now had to deliver upon.

Lyle was lucky that despite how far away they were from the coast, they had their horses to ride with haste. He was filled with a strange sense of loneliness as other units stationed close to the beach that had already completed their required cleaning was spending what remaining time they could with their families. He did not have that opportunity. His mother was still at Mystic Springs, where she was still dealing with the legal processes that involved the death of Derick. On that thought, he wondered what her opinion was of him going off to war. Did she support him in an effort for her to feel like his death had been avenged? Or did she not want him to go for fear of him getting killed? Lyle had not reached the opportunity to ask her.

There was a degree of anxiousness in Lyle that he had not felt before. It wasn't the march – or in his case, the ride – to the pier that bothered him, it was the fact that he was finally going to be gone from all that he was familiar with. Traeblesh was a place that he could go to the far corners of the continent and still be comfortable. Even as a common Buteo, he could still get along with the many other kinds of Buteos on Traeblesh, such as Red-Tailed, Rough-legged, Grey, and even rarer groups like the Ferruginous, but they were all still Buteos at heart. Going to the Dragon Realms would be quite literally going off to a strange land in which he had no knowledge of, much less the ability to relate with.

He could see everyone in his unit feeling the same way. They had each other, sure, but that's all that they had. Here sits the nation's finest to-be, more or less scared to go off to war. It might have been normal feeling to have for first-time deployments, but veterans from the war against the dark army were far and few between within the military ranks to look up to for guidance. Since there was nobody to look to for advice, they would be lead blindly into battle with what training that they had. There was no telling either if their training that they had already done would have been practical or not against the foe that they were to be facing.

They were gathered together at a barracks where they lounged about and waited for the order to get into formation. They all talked together about what they were going to do when the war is over. It was rather early to talk about things like that already, but they were running out of ideas for a conversation.

"So, Lyle, what will you do after the war is over?" One of his fellow soldiers asked him. His name was Ian, a twenty-one-year-old Long-legged Hawk that came the far north. It was by accident that he was placed in cavalry instead of the artillery corps. Still, he quickly learned that cavalry was more exciting for him than ramming two-piece ammunition into a six-inch artillery piece.

"I think that I'll use the money I get from this to buy my own piece of land somewhere. The rest of my family and I can move there and live in comfort instead of having to toil every day just to keep going."

"Buy land? We are going to be invading bountiful lands ripe for the taking! Why buy fifty acres of land when you can just claim five thousand?" The Buteo said enthusiastically. Lyle hadn't thought of claiming conquered lands as their own. He was more under the impression that they were occupying the land for the sake of pushing the enemy's lines back.

"It wasn't my first idea, but now that you mention it, there is certainly going to be quite a lot for the taking." Lyle mused over the idea of having such a large plot of land – over seven square miles as a matter of fact. There was a lot that could be done with that large portion of land. The idea of becoming a landlord was appealing, but having to manage all of it was not on his agenda.

Another Buteo spoke up. "I'm gonna use the money I earned to start my own business." Her name was Erin. She was one of the many females in the Royal Army and the few in the cavalry corps. "There's a market out there for handmade crafts. I can make the products myself or have them ordered from artisans. Either way, it's a win for all involved." She came from a family living in the deep forest. In its isolation, there was a shortage of business and wandering traders that made the rigorous journey to the mostly self-sufficient township. With that, luxury goods were in high value, and there was no competition for them there either, and there were a lot of people who secretly yearned for something of value.

"Hey, Erin. Since you can't find a boyfriend, maybe you can make yourself something to ple –"

"Don't even go there, Kinn!" Kinn was the leader of their cavalry group. To say that he was unpopular was an understatement. He was born into a family of Earls, which inevitably lead to a self-centered and stuck-up personality. With that, it also leads him to the misconception that it meant that he could insult anyone that he wanted to and get away with it. Even if it was in the most demeaning ways. Erin was not the kind to stand down and take it. "You couldn't keep it in your pants long enough to keep you from getting diseased by a harlot!"

Everyone laughed at the insult while Kinn became visibly red under the feathers on his face. Erin got had hit him where it hurt the most metaphorically speaking. "You're a bitch, you know that?"

"Yeah, a bitch that won't be suffering from 'leakage,'" she said in air quotes. The room erupted into more laughter. Kinn wanted to crush her beak for that, there was no way that he could get out of being reprimanded for that, and there was nothing that he could do to rebuke her for insulting him, leader or not.

"Listen here, you little! – " Kinn paused. There was no way that he could get out of this situation without digging himself into an even deeper hole. Erin had won, and there was nothing that he could do to get back on top again. "Whatever. Make sure you got your shit shined for the show."

"Already have."

"Ju-just shut up."

They all went back about their conversations, waiting for the notice to don their equipment and mount their horses. Others in the unit occasionally pipped up with conversations and carried them on in and out of their social groups while others sat away brooding to themselves. Although they all shared one emotion no matter how much they tried to hide it or how intense each one felt: fear.

/\/\/\

Bevan and Jadney both worn regalia for the occasion that they were attending. Jadney wore the typical fancy dress and jewelry while Bevan wore an ornate but functional set of armor; it was meant to be seen as a symbolic gesture. Being that the declaration of war was also an order for military mobilization, there was really no need for the ceremony to happen in the first place other than for the morale boost the people of the nation and the soldiers that were being deployed.

Similarly to the cavalry soldiers of Fort Ledura, they were able to make haste to the coastline thanks to the power of horse-drawn carriages, although this time with a sooner departure time. Even with an increase in the time that they were given, that didn't mean that they were going to be early. Instead, they were pushing it thanks to a poorly placed pothole and a snapped axle. They made it through, and with just enough time to see the soldiers getting into marching formation on the boulevard to the pier where dozens of ships lay waiting to be boarded.

The boulevard that the soldiers would walk down met up at a roundabout. Inside of the roundabout was an ancient stronghold that survived not only the test of time but the sudden and swift attack of Malefor and the invasion of the dark army. In symbolic terms – which was all this event pretty much was – this was the best place to have the ceremony. They stood up on a stronghold balcony where they watched the soldiers below get into formation for the march to the pier.

"Jadney, do you think that it was a good idea to dress up like this? I look a bit silly," Bevan asked. Jadney was in the same boat as Bevan. Instead of being equipped in a painstakingly but masterfully forged set of ceremonial armor, she was draped in multiple layers of heavy, finely sewn cloth.

"You look fine. If anything, you are better off than I am. You've got a basic set of clothes underneath all that metal. Meanwhile, I've got on layers of clothing that are frankly uncomfortable to wear in all this heat." The weather on the coast was usually more welcoming to those that visited, but today was not one of those days.

"If you hate it that much, you could always go naked to the parade," he jested with no intention of being serious. He got back a suggestive look.

"So you're saying that you want me to be naked, hmm?"

"No, no, no, oh the gods no, don't do that! That's not what I meant!" Bevan stumbled over his words. She only laughed in response.

"Then be careful of what you say; otherwise, your cheeks will get as red as your tail feathers."

"Dammit, Jadney..."

"I'll take that as a compliment. How's that speech you prepared? I suppose that you are prepared to deliver it."

"Yes, yes, I am." He pulled out pages of paper, somehow keeping them tucked firmly between his chestplate and undershirt. "It's more bullet points of things to touch on." Jadney cracked a small smile.

"You won't do sometimes," she said dismissively, shaking her head slightly while doing so.

"I do my best."

They both stood on the balcony, continuing to watch the organization staff getting the soldiers in formation. A timepiece read that it was two-fifty in the afternoon. The parade was scheduled to take place at three. There would not be a long wait before it was to begin. People had already begun to gather to watch the spectacle. There was a lot more than Bevan had anticipated. He wasn't going to have much of a voice afterward. And there was no time to stop once he started.

…

"To the people of Quillum, young and old, healthy and sickly, the day has finally arrived. For those of you that are old enough to remember, our great kingdom came under threat by the Dark army. The centerpiece of the army of apes was a group of barbaric dragons, which you know has caused numerous deaths and casualties that any trip to a library will confirm through a myriad of books on the subject. And as many of you now know, a lone black dragon made its way to our great kingdom and attempted to take the lives of me, my loving wife Jadney, head alchemist Bradan, and promised to kill many more. I can now, with confidence, say that the threat that the black dragon posed to us has been neutralized.

"We stand here today gathered for one thing and one thing only: to avenge our fallen family members and to seek justice for their transgressions. Long ago, a dragon revered by their entire society destroyed our kingdom, The First Kingdom of Quillum. The dark age that followed divided our already fracture society further – putting Buteo against Buteo in a desperate bid for power and recognition. However, we refused to fade into history. With the House of Raemes successfully able to restore the kingdom in age, we were finally on our way to repairing the damage from the kingdom's collapse and the dark age.

"Our age of healing was finally reaching its end twenty years ago. Twenty years ago, we were finally returned to the height of power that we had previously and were restored to our former glory. That would all be interrupted by the Dark Army when they landed on our shores. The dragons that they brought with them were a force that we were not prepared to fight. They slaughtered us by the thousands without any remorse or regret and absolutely reveled in the fact that we were so unprepared for them.

"If it was not for the valiant efforts of the platoon of magic soldiers, there might no be a Kingdom of Quillum today. We had success after success that lead in their withdraw and allowed to finally turn the tide of battle. We pushed the apes back to the ocean, where they drown in the brine and blood. In the interests of the people, my late father, King Dylan, set in motion an ambition program: a military buildup and invasion of the homeland of the dragon. We are ready for it.

"We've amassed a little over one million soldiers! We've made unprecedented technological advancements – more in the past twenty years than the past thousand years! We've unlocked a magical potential within each of us! And if they think that we aren't able to accomplish our desires, then let them feel our steel!"

…

The soldiers and the citizenry alike let loose a massive cheer. With that, the soldiers began their march down to the pier where they would the transport ships. Some ships were new-age steamers with all-metal construction, some were wooden sailing ships, some were a combination with steam engines retrofitted with masts and sails still present for when winds were prevalent and in their favor. It was truly a marvelous sight to see. As the soldiers marched, people cheered them on and threw out flower petals that floated in the warm wind.

Both monarchs walked back within the stronghold and plotted out their next decision. The massive weight on Bevan's shoulders was finally lifted. Finally, his efforts and those of his father before him had have paid off. Now it was the responsibility of Field Marshal O'Brian to oversee the operations of the military. With that, he finally had more time to spend on other issues other than the royal decree that he was forced to follow thanks to the slyness of his father. Maybe even now, he had more time to spend with his significant other.

In retrospect, the parade was a success in all aspects. For the monarchs, there was finally time to spend on other things. For the soldiers, it was a well-needed morale boost that put away their anxiousness and gave them a sense of confidence that they previously did not have. And for the citizenry, it rallied them behind a cause that had waned in support over the years; they stood behind the crown's endeavors with full backing. The Kingdom of Quillum was ready for war, and all that was needed was the time to their destination.

/\/\/\

Lyle and his group of friends rode their warhorses proudly down the boulevard. It was a feeling to get high off of. It was a strange feeling knowing that random strangers who didn't know him from Adam were cheering them on like they were their children. It was hard to retain their composure being showered in praise and support, with many of them wanting to smile and wave back. They had to retain their professional look. What they could do, though, was make eye contact and give a simple nod of appreciation.

It wasn't a long trek to the pier, but many were wanting it to last much longer. Lyle couldn't blame them for it. While they were feeding off the cheer and praise, it made them blissfully unaware that this would be the last day of normalcy for them all. The moment they got on the boat would the last time that they would live normal lives – everything after that would be the beginning of a war that none of them fully knew the ramifications of their actions. For some of them, that might have been the last time that they would see each other for one reason or another.

It was Lyle and his friend's turn to board the transport ship. They got lucky and got a steamer rather than a sailboat. The decorated bow bore the ship's name: The Long Road. How ironic. The newer metal-built ships gave much more comfortable than, the older sailing ships to their passengers. Their horses were not so fortunate. They were put on an accompanying retrofitted ship that would be following them closely to them. First on everyone's priority was to get to and claim their room as quickly as possible, the rooms being on a first-come, first-serve basis for all rooms, including the high-class rooms. To say that they broke their professionalism was an understatement.

All of them made a mad dash to the best rooms in the ship, laughing all the way. Others had the same idea of getting the best rooms on the boat, and despite their best efforts, they only got second-class rooms. It was still better than the third-class, although they envied those that were fortunate enough to board to the boat first. No matter though, it was all comfortable, no matter what class they got on.

They doffed their armor once their room doors shut. From there, they all flopped down on their respective beds. For many of them, this would be the first time that they ever had such comforts. It didn't take long before many of them dozed despite not being all that tired. It was fine that they did like they did as all of their supplies would be loaded by the longshoremen into the cargo hold where the ship's crew would distribute to their respective owners. For Lyle and his friends, this would be a time that they would cherish. They would not be getting many moments like this with what is to come.

/\/\/\

On a secluded hilltop in the deepest part of the royal park, a lone tree stood. It was an unremarkable tree – no more than five years old – green needles were abundant on every branch from the base to the crown. There would be no disturbances from any landscapers or logging crews here. Not like they were even aloud that deep into the woods. However, the unremarkable tree was quite deceptive in what made it special. To all but one, this tree was special. This tree contained the soul of a dragon.

It was an interesting experience as Cynder expected it to be like a lapse in conscientiousness. She had experienced every bit of it. For the most part, it was not very painful. It was when they were removing her soul from her body that it was the most painful. The dosage of energy given was more than enough to remove a soul from a Buteo was just barely enough to remove that of a dragon's. The pain that erupted through her felt like her very essence was being ripped apart at the most fundamental level. As she screamed at the top of her lungs, what part of her soul left in her body wasn't enough to command the body to do the same.

Being toted around in the quartz crystal was just an interesting as the whole process was. She wondered how her soul would be able to fit in such a temporary vessel as small as it was, but that there was no concern as she was somehow able to fit in the crystal. It was an interesting feeling. It was like she was the crystal itself, being able to feel the scaled forearm of Bradan with greater detail than she hoped for. Next was being forced into a new vessel: a White Spruce. It was a strange choice of a vessel to be put in, but the logic was sound. It was a park on the royal estate where hunting and logging was prohibited, as well as the deepest part of it. It was a precautionary measure.

It would have taken her time to acclimate to life being a tree had it not been for a slight problem. Rather than the tree becoming the vessel of her soul, Bradan made a mistake in the transfer procedure so minuscule that he in his rush to get the process over. Instead of the tree becoming her new vessel, it became a bounding place. A bounding was different than an inhabiting. If she inhabited the tree, she would have become one. Being bound was like being restricted by the Green Chain necklace, but instead of being physically restricted, her soul was restricted.

Cynder examined herself at the base of the tree. Everything was just as it was before, although she had become a bit translucent. Everything felt the same as it had before, but there was a noticeable lack in the sensation of hunger, thirst, or temperature. There was one problem, though. An ethereal silver cord stretched from her body to the tree. If she went too far away from the tree, the cord was pulled taught, and she could go no further. Interestingly though, she could phase through the ground or float through other trees or the one that she was bound to as long as she did not stray too far.

She tried every way from Sunday to free herself from the tree and silver-colored cord, all of which resulted in failure. It wouldn't matter in the end as her body was still petrified and stored somewhere unknown to her. She curled and sulked underneath the tree and gave a long-winded sigh. It wasn't long before she let loose a string of vile curses towards Bradan and her given situation. And she cursed herself for being so foolish to believe that she could change the fate that an entity _who can see into the future _brought to light. Not to mention that she had promised Spyro that she would return to him and the realms. Oh shit… Spyro.

As much as she hated to admit it, she was not going to be able to help him with his daily night terrors. What followed was a feeling of self-loathing and disgust. She was the best person to help him, and now she was on the other side of the world with no way to travel more than fifty feet. Sure, there was the chronicler that could try to help him as well as the guardians who have already invested efforts into helping him, but nobody could provide the solace as she could. She let loose more curses before softly sobbing in her own self-pity. That was all before she was interrupted by a curious voice.

"Who are you? Are you okay?"

Cynder looked up to see a transparent dragon. Strangely, it was green all over with only differing shades to differentiate accents, wing membranes, and more. It was a curious sight, indeed. She had a vague remembrance of something like this before, although something about this time was significantly different than before, something alien.

"I could ask the same of you. And no, I'm not okay."

"What's wrong?" The entity said innocent and oblivious to all the swearing that Cynder spat out. To Cynder, it seemed that the entity was feigning its obliviousness. The entity was, unfortunately, in the way of Cynder's growing anger.

"What's wrong? I'll tell you what's wrong! The Dragon Realms is about to be invaded by the Quillians, and it seems that nobody but me has any knowledge of it. My lover is plagued by something that's causing life-like and long-lasting nightmares with his dark side is begging for him to be set free. And let's not mention for one minute that my original body was turned to stone, and I'm now a tree, a fucking tree!"

"There is nothing wrong with being a tree, is there?" The entity asked again with the same innocent voice that it had before, not even taking notice of the other issues at hand.

"Yes there is. I am a dragon, that's why. I'm not supposed to be a glorified stick in the mud, I am supposed to be a lean, mean, fighting machine; a creature of flesh and blood."

"You're not one anymore." Cynder was unsure how to answer back to that. It could have different interpretations depending on how one decided to look at it. "You're a tree now," the entity said in a chipper, upbeat tone.

"Damn well-deduced detective... Anyways, you still haven't told me who you were," Cynder growled lowly back, rolling her eyes at the entity not far from her. It was not phased by it.

"I'm Astris. A dryad."

Cynder tilted her head sideways in confusion. "And that is?"

"Oh, right. We are nature spirits." The dryad's overly-positive tone was starting to agitate Cynder. What was there to be so positive about?

"Then why do you look like dragons then?"

"We look like whatever we want," Astris said, her form beginning to shift from a dragon to that of a Buteo's. "See?" She shifted back to the dragonic form that she had orignally presented herself as. "I thought that it would have been easier on you to present myself like you."

"Interesting… I'm Cynder, by the way," she said to the dryad, her mood starting to improve by now.

"I don't like that name, it's bad," Astris deadpanned.

_'Oh, Ancestors, this is going to get old quickly.' _Cynder thought, taken aback by how quickly and serious the aloof entity had demeaned her. "I cannot help that it was the name that I was given."

"I don't like it. It implies bad things. Reducing something to cinders needs a fire to do so. Fire kills. We disappear if our trees are burned."

"Congratulations, you've figured out the significance of my name… as much as I hate it."

"Why would someone name someone after death?"

"It's a long story that I don't want to talk about unless you want to hear the story of my tragic past."

"Maybe next time."

Cynder gave a small sigh of relief. If the dryad-thing already didn't like her because of her name, she would find a way to kill her if it heard the tales of the things that she had done for the first years of her life. "So, are there others?"

"Yes, but not all of them can come out of their trees as us few can. Want me to go get the others?"

"Not right now, but thank you for the offer."

Cynder had dodged a bullet. It was more than enough to take in within a year, and it had only been a day. It would take time to adjust to this new life, being a soul bound to a tree and all. She would also have to put up with an overly-positive nature spirit that would probably be a larger thorn in her rump than the silver cord's restrictive properties. It was the only day one of her new life, and there would be many, many days to follow.

* * *

**Well, that wraps up that one. For the sake of story balance, there will be a dragon only chapter coming up surprisingly soon. Not much to say other than I encourage anyone who reads this chapter and the story at large to leave a review. Not only does it help me gauge interest in the story, but it also allows you all to give forth suggestions or point out errors that slip through the cracks (Thanks, Blues!). That's all for now. See you all on the next one. **

**-Abyssal**


	11. On the High Seas

**Reviewer Response:**

**To Satelliteblues: Yeah, it does go a long way. Indeed, the preparations are finished, and the Royal Army will be on their way. And I'm proud of the part with the little Dryad and Cynder. I'm sure that interactions between them will be a nice break from the carnage that will follow. **

**To Guest Reviewer: Thank you for reviewing the story! I'll address some of the problems that you brought to light. **

**1) Is the soul removing procedure too easy and without limit? Yes, that was the point. The only thing in terms of limits is just how long one is willing to do it before they reach their moral limit.**

**2) For Cynder using Aether, since it was unintentionally bestowed upon her, my interpretation is that she can't use it at will but under certain circumstances like in fury attacks or in the Malefor fight. Breaking free from the spruce tree using Aether? Well, if a soul itself could use magic, she certainly could. Her body is preserved but is still petrified, so even if she did break free and find it, she would just end up sealed in a statue. As for keeping her there, she will not be saved by Spyro, and she will not remain there for the rest of the story. There is a lot planned behind the scenes for her, I just need to get to that part of the story. **

**3)The sealing away of Malefor is more akin to banishing than manipulating. Plus, while the sealing of Malefor was through dragon magic, the manipulation of souls by the Quillians was through the accidental discovery of the properties of the Mysterious energy brought up in previous chapters. The Mysterious Energy will be explored further as the story grows. 4) While I appreciate your idea for a solution, it wouldn't work. Bradan is not stupid enough to try that when he and his already experimented with petrification, de-petrification, and the moving of souls between temporary vessels and their original bodies. **

**5) Guerrilla warfare might work well until effective counter-insurgency tactics, then fail as the defenders know how to effectively counter the attacks. Scorched earth tactics are inevitable on both sides as well**

**Once again, thanks for reviewing. **

* * *

_Chapter 10: On The High Seas_

_Song: Metal Invasion–masqueraded – Freedom Call_

* * *

The salty sea breeze was filled with soot as the steamships continued to burn coal for their steam engines. They ran at a more fuel-efficient and slower speed as to allow for the sailing ships behind them to stay in close proximity – and with the fortunate southward wind and ocean current was keeping a good pace. The crews of the boats that had to clean the sails once the journey was complete. However, they were not so pleased with what came with soot and pristine white sails. In the end, though, the soldiers aboard the ships did not care what color the sails were as long as they got to the distant shores.

For Lyle and his friends, there were still thankful that they got the rooms that they did and that they got the comforts of a steamer ship rather than the sailing ones. They, like many others, were on the weather deck. Some were basking out in the sunlight, others were chatting, a few were sparing with wooden training swords and spears, and the remaining were minding their own business elsewhere. All of them shared in one experience, and that was they all really hadn't been on a boat much in their lives. Mild cases of seasickness were common with some so cases so severe that medical attention. Otherwise, the trip had gone well for the first few days.

By this time, the morale boost was starting to wane, and many of the soldiers on the ship were returning to their previous state of anxiousness. Lyle was no exception. It didn't bother him all that much if he wasn't overthinking about it, although there were times where he could feel his hands quivering ever so slightly. He had asked the others how they felt about the matter and got a verity of responses from inside his group and out.

Ian had already begun to feel the stress returning to him the morning after they set sail. When questioned further about it, he was glad to elaborate. "I can't help but think deep down if the mistake that put me here in the cavalry unit was the mistake that would sign my soul over to the reaper," he said plainly, somewhat distant sounding. "I know that the mission of our cavalry unit is to skirmish behind enemy lines, so we are not supposed to see frontline combat, but being behind our own lines reloading our heavy guns also puts me a lesser risk assuming they don't fly over and find us. Long story short, I'm afraid that whatever I do is going to end up in my untimely death. I've got so much to live for, so I'm hoping that nothing significant happens." It was a reasonable response. Almost all of the soldiers, including the sailors, were all concerned over their survival.

Erin had been much calmer and collected than the majority of those that were on The Long Road. Viewing her past made that apparent. Her mother was a priestess that sought to teach her in the mystical ways before she had any intentions of joining. The jewelry that adorned her neck and wrists was a clear indicator that she had been taught well and steeped in the mystical. "I hold hope for us that we will do well; nobody but the divine knows our fate. While I do not wish for any of us to be lost in battle, I know that the souls of the lost will rest easy knowing that they were fighting against the menace that has plagued us for over a thousand years," she spoke confidently. She did not fear death like the others.

"You seriously believe in that bullshit, Erin?" Kinn spoke sarcastically, but with a harsh overtone. "So what if some of us get killed? It just goes to show that they were slackers in their training and that they are the ones at fault for their death, not the dragon that they failed to slay." Kinn was laid on the deck sunbathing with his wings unfurled.

"That's not how that works, smartass," Lyle spoke up. "You aren't in control of them breathing any of their elemental breaths, nor when they decided when to attack you physically. Yes, more training is better as you will have more experience before you ride into battle, but the only experience gained in combat will make any marginal improvement."

"I've been doing this since I lied my way into the army. I've been doing this for five years. You've only seen real training for about a month now. If you live through our first engagement, then I'll take back all that I said. If you die, then let that be a lesson for all of you here." Kinn didn't make any attempt to socialize after that. Lyle just looked bemused back to Erin.

Lyle beckoned Erin and Ian over to another part of the weather deck away from the hearing range of their arrogant leader. They would find that place on the other side of the ship with the superstructure and other chatter keeping away their conversation from Kinn's ears. It was not as populace on that side of the ship – the shadier spot was not in high demand – which meant that there would be less eavesdropping from other Buteos.

"Erin, does he always act more arrogant than usual around you?"

"It seems so. More so after I embarrassed kinn in front of the gods and everyone else before the parade."

"If you thought that was bad, he's not so vocal about it in public, but he used to be the same way to me a while before you joined, Lyle," Ian interjected. "One day, he decided to target me. Like Erin, I stood up to him, but physically. I socked him square in the beak. That stopped him from doing it publicly, but that didn't privately. There was nobody to help me from getting my ass kicked then..."

"I guess that's why everyone hates him with a passion," Lyle said, walking over to the railing and looking down at the water moving past the side of the ship. "How ironic would it be if he was the first one to get killed in combat? I don't wish that on anybody, but as much as he touted himself as one that is most likely to survive, it would only be the upmost irony."

"Then the gods will laugh at his arrogance," Erin deadpanned.

They stood there in silence for a bit before being interrupted by the sound of musical instruments coming from the bow of the ship. Curiously, they made their way to the bow. Soldiers who were musically inclined that managed to bring their instruments were playing them with all on deck as their audience. It was quickly thrown together a string band that was doing a swell job of putting on a show. The song that they played was one that was unique to them, an original composition. They were unfortunate in that the song that they had been singing was now over, but they were able to hear the next one.

"Okay, we got another one for you," the bandleader said, "we don't really have a name for this one yet, but we do have a song. Hit it, fellas!" As he said that, the instruments came to life. Guitars both acoustic and bass, a fiddle, and surprisingly a small set of drums to the bewilderment to all.

"_In our hands we hold the future,_

_as we live so, we will die. _

_Carry on to save our kind._

_Back to back, we stand as one, _

_until the last crusade is done._

_We are leaving from the night._

_Call for vengeance, raise you steel_

_we are headed for eternal life_

_we are the knights on our glory ride_

_freedom for us all_

_Lo, defenders! raise your swords_

_in endless agony_

_we are the knights on the glory ride_

_freedom for us all_

_All hail to the gods of creation_

_all hail to the king of our world_

_all hail to the metal invasion_

_a heavenly kingdom on earth."_

The song continued for another few minutes with regularly repeating verses. When the band ended, they received an ovation from all those in the audience. Even though they had only been traveling for three days now, it was a sweet return home, even if it was for five or so minutes. While it was a clear break of protocol for them to do what they did, those in officer positions took no action against it; instead, they were encouraging it. The Long Road now had a performing band.

Nobody for a moment thought of how fragile such a group would be when they arrived on the shores of the Dragon Realms. Out of the five members of the rag-tag group, one was in the cavalry along with Lyle and his friends, two of them were with the infantry, and the last one was with an artillery unit. Out of all of them, the one most likely to survive was the one in the artillery, but there was never a certainty that even he would survive. For now, though, nobody cared if they would make it to the end of the war or not. They were too preoccupied with the catchy tune they had sung.

/\/\/\

Running escort to the transport and supply ships was the cruisers of the Royal Quillian Navy. These were brand new ships thanks to the growth of industry following the wake of the Dark Army's defeat. Powered by steam engines and built of steel, they were the absolute newest asset that the military had at this time. Their engines were running at maximum fuel-efficiency thanks to the slow speed of the sailboats keeping the steamers from going too fast. That didn't bother them though as they had colliers to refill their coal bunkers in they were to run low.

The ship they were on was a light cruiser named _Red Peak_, named so after the iron-rich mountains that sourced the iron to make the steel. They had a basic and balanced armament layout. Six, six-inch guns were the primary armaments of the ship, with two of the cannons being on the upper weather deck and two mounted in casements on either side of the ship on the lower weather deck. Their secondary armament consisted of four, five-inch guns with two guns mounted on each side of the ship in casements on the same deck as the larger caliber guns. With enough cooperation, they could rain down shells onto an enemy ship with ease. If it were a heavy cruiser, those apposed would be experiencing a significant emotional event as their ship would be ripped apart by an even more torrential volley of shells.

Ryan had joined the navy a few months before the arrival of Cynder to their kingdom and was one of those that were placed in a more favorable position of a topside six-inch gunner. His logic behind that was that if there was a catastrophic explosion that occurred on the ship, he was more likely to be flung from the boat in the blast and survive than being in the machining spaces or magazines where said explosion might take place. Either way, he was happy where he was currently. However, that didn't mean that he was unwilling to take a promotion to another ship.

The dream of his career was to be on one of the fancy battleships under construction in shipyards right now. These behemoths of steel were the peak of the Royal Quillian Navy – that was when they get launched. He was lucky to get a glimpse at one almost ready for launch before leaving port for the convoy of ships that they now protected. Envy filled him as he saw just how large the ship was compared to his. It also filled him with fear as those twelve-inch guns would shred through the ship he was on with no problem whatsoever.

Deep down, Ryan almost pitied the dragons in that regard. Of what intelligence information was given back to them so far, the dragons themselves had no use for a navy of any sort, but those canines that they heard of did in some capacity. Not only were they excellent shipbuilders, but skilled at crewing them too. If what they heard was correct, their ship was still of wood construction, calling into question if the use of armor-piercing shells was vital if they were still lagging behind. It was deemed to keep the shells anyway. If war brought anything other than death and destruction, it was the break-neck pace of innovation. It was considered that in a prolonged conflict – the chances of which were predicted to be sixty-four percent – those in the Dragon Realms would possess ships capable of successfully fighting against those in the Royal Navy.

It was a scary thought to think of; the dragons and their allies being able to fight back against their ships effectively one day. All that did was put pressure on the navy, including the setting of goals that would be hard to achieve in the amount of time given for each objective to be completed. They would have to neutralize all naval threats and bombard marine assets ever within three years. That would be fine if it wasn't for so much ocean to cover and not enough new ships in the navy to go about performing that task. Taking into consideration the losses that they would eventually receive, Ryan figured roughly that they would need to run sorties every day to fulfill the admiralty's wish. The only thing that he could do was pray that everything was going to be alright.

* * *

Terrador went forth in front of the leaders of the Dragon Army. He once was in their shoes, commanding many and even his very own unit throughout the war against the Dark Army. Strangely as it was, he was no longer the head of operations but was still looked to as the de facto leader of the dragon's forces. There was a diverse range of dragons gathered, all of the various scale colors and elemental powers. They all sat together in a circle in the training room with the doors locked. The meeting room had already been occupied by the other guardians going over civil and governing matters.

"As you already know, I have brought you here today to discuss matters of the security of the Dragon Realms," Terrador said in his booming voice, "There is a new menace that lurks among us and seeks to destroy us. Not a force of apes, but a force of hawks."

There was a hushed murmur of all of those in the group. It was apparent that no matter how hard they tried to keep it suppressed, they just couldn't believe what Terrador had just muttered. He saw this and proceeded to expand further on the situation. There was no guarantee that they would believe him.

"Allow me to explain. The first indication of this threat was the warning given to us, thanks to the Chronicler. All of the fellow guardians, as well as Cynder, have received the same message. Second to note is that the Cheetah tribes have already observed them, at least from some distance away. Lastly, we have two eyewitnesses who had come under attack by these creatures. If you don't believe the first two, then I have invited the two eyewitnesses to this gathering to bring forth their testimony."

Terrador walked over to one of the locked doors and proceeded to unlock it and invite those on the other side into the room. Both were green dragons. One an older female with noticeable signs of injury on her left front leg and burns on her right flank. Although these wounds had been healed by red gems, it would take a while before the scaring would go away. The other was a small child with no sign of long-lasting injuries. Terrador greeted them with a nod and allowed them to come to sit within the circle.

"I'm glad that you could join me, Mrs. Petra. Same to you, Granite." He spoke in a very welcoming tone.

"I prefer to go by Grant if you don't mind," the little child said as a worry-free expression. He was too young to understand formalities like this. That didn't stop his mother from shooting him a hateful glare. "Actually, just call me by my real name for the time being."

"Very well, then. I brought you both here to allow you to testify in front of our military leaders what happened to you and your son. Over the past many days, we have been getting warnings that something involving these creatures is coming, and we want all available information from you as possible." There was an uncomfortable silence as the most powerful – at least politically – dragons in Warfang sat around them. The generals would remain in silence while they answered the questions that would be given out be Terrador.

"I guess I might as well explain what happened," Petra said with a slight pain in her voice. The memories of what happened were still fresh on her mind. "Granite wanted to see where the old dragon temple was – he idolized you Terrador and wanted to see where you once lived. Under my strict supervision, I deemed it okay for us to go there as any potential dangers we might have encountered there is something that I could handle without a problem. Once we made it to the ruins of the site, he asked if it was okay for him to explore around the site, which I trusted him to be safe it what he did. I heard him scream for help, not a minute later, and that's when it all began."

"So, Granite wanted to explore what was left of the old temple. When did these hawks attack you and your son?"

"Well," She paused, getting lost in a train of thought. "I don't really think that they attacked us. I think it was more defending themselves against us than anything else." That remark got a whole lot of lifted eyebrows from the generals in the room. Even Terrador was confused by this revaluation.

"How do you believe that it was self-defense when clearly you came out more injured after their small fight?" Terrador said with his head cocked sideways. The green dragoness was ready to fully express her opinion.

"Being in the infirmary has given me time to do some thinking, and it makes sense from a logical standpoint," the green dragoness remarked. "Of what my son was able to see, they were taking shelter in a crater, sitting on chunks of stone pillars for benches, and roasting a wild bore over a spit. They were equally scared of us and did what they did in a reactionary measure.

"They pounced on my boy and grabbed him by the snout to keep him from screaming any more as that would attract more attention to their presence. When I got to the rim of the crater that they were hiding in, they were all frozen in fear, especially when they saw me on the rim. When I blasted the one on top of my son with an earth shot, they moved and spoke frantically. That's when I was shot in the leg by one with a crossbow. I believe if they were out to kill us, they would have been in a much better position to that rather than cooking their meal over a campfire.

"My injuries, the crossbow bolt was the only one that was inflicted by them in their quick attempt to flee from the scene. It was after I was shot that I collapsed and rolled down the crater walls and into their cooking fire accidentally, contrary to the rumors that said I was intentionally burned. Granite was not hurt by them other than how tightly they were holding his snout closed. Everything else was because of the tumble down the rim and into the crater below."

All in attendance were silently pondering what do to from here. Sure, they had more than enough evidence to show that the Buteos were a hostile species to dragons – but with Petra's change of heart on how she saw the nature of the attack, it was harder to sell the idea to those that can actually do something about it. Granite continued to sit there in complete silence. He eventually spoke up after his mother's short monologue.

"Yeah. I went to that crater in particular because I saw smoke from it and wondered what could be burning there in the mushroom forests. I slipped and fell down in the crater where I saw them and screamed for help. That's when one tackled me with a knife in his one hand, but he never used it."

Terrador now had to reckon with this new point that perhaps this encounter, while enough to provoke a response, was not enough for the generals to begin mobilization of the Dragon Army. He wasn't sure if it was enough for even their closest allies to come aboard with the mobilization either. He eyed the generals who were started to talk among themselves on the matter. There were so many conversations that it was hard for the aging Earth Guardian to keep up with it all. All he could do was pray to the ancestors that they would make a decision in favor of preparing their forces for war. It was about ten minutes later when the voiced quieted down. Terrador eagerly awaited the response from the military leaders.

One of them stood out to represent them all. This, of course, was the highest-ranking of them all with the command of all forces in the Dragon Army. "Due to the testimony of Mrs. Petra and her son, we have concluded that there is something here lurking in the realms. However, we cannot be certain that these creatures represent the threat that you have let them on to be. However, they are still a danger being posed by them. With that, we will approve of a limited mobilization and will reassess if more or less is needed. That is our final decision."

"Very well. Let out meeting be adjourned," Terrador said, trying not to show his disappointment. He was hoping for something much more than a limited mobilization, but there was nothing that could be done about that now. The brains of the operation had spoken and their word was final. It was, however, still a better action than nothing at all.

Once everyone left, including Petra and her son, he was left alone in the dojo. He let out a heavy sigh. He was hoping for a full mobilization, although, as they had said, it would be hard to warrant with what little evidence of malicious intent that the Guardian had at their disposal. If the Chronicler showed up in the dreams tonight, then maybe the full order would have a chance. But until then, they would have to make do with a limited force to defend the entirety of the Dragon Realms. He worried that if the Buteos were to make significant territorial advances between the limited and full mobilization, they would gain a permanent foothold. And depending on just how much land is captured, could sustain their invasion force from that land alone.

* * *

With the invasion now underway, it was time for the intelligence report from the network of spies to inform the Royal Army command. If they were to be successful, or at least have some successes, the information would be needed, and that's what the spy network was sent out to do. In anticipation of the invasion, the espionage agents were dispatched months before to gather as much information as they could that would assist them. That was a much harder task to do than what anyone expected it to be.

First was the issue of actually getting them there. Naturally, the only viable option was to sail there as the flight would have been too risky due to exhaustion. They sailed for the most part and took advantage of the numerous islands in between Traeblesh and the Dragon Realms as jumping-off points. Nevertheless, the task was done, and now the information was gathered. In the Royal Palace, an intelligence liaison – the head of the operation to be exact – prepared himself to deliver the report to not only the military staff but the monarchs as well.

In his clutches was an overview of a much larger intelligence report that would be distributed out before the presentation. Overall, he was unsure how well the audience would react to the results of his network's progress. There was only one way to find out, and that was to begin the presentation and see their reactions for himself. The room was well lit with magic lanterns giving off their luminescent glow. Seated at a table in a semi-circular formation, was everyone that was in some form of command position. In the face of all of this, the intelligence liaison was visibly nervous.

He took his place at a podium in the center of the formation. Aids of the presentation began to pass out printed copies of the report in its entirety – a bound booklet of about one-hundred or more pages. Almost everyone in attendance was looking for a timepiece to see just how long that they had before they had to leave for other events. This didn't bother the liaison as he had the report well-organized and would be easy to navigate through. Placing down the overview on the podium, he began his presentation.

"Good afternoon, everyone. I hope that you are all doing well. After months of work, this is the fruits of our labor, the intelligence report. To save on time, I will hit the high notes and give brief but descriptive overviews and leave the rest of it you to read at your discretion. Without further ado, let us begin."

Little did they know that he would go fast without much room for them to interject. The seated audience opened up their copies of the report to the table of contents. In there was an impressive diversity of topics that were observed, ranging from geography to the ecology and edibility of native plants.

"First, I think that thing that we all want to hear is the information about the population. Our assumptions about the dragons were that they lived entirely on a carnivorous diet. We learned, however, that it was not the case. Through observation, we've come to the conclusion that they are just as omnivorous as we are – having the ability to digest plants but more able to digest meat. How does that relate to the population you might ask. Well, it matters a lot, actually. Because they have a sustainable source of food, their populations can grow much faster than a solely carnivorous diet because there is no need to continually hunt for food that takes years to yield ample sustenance.

"Another thing to note is the size of the Dragon Realms. The continent of Traeblesh is a little over four million square miles, the Dragon Realms as a political entity encompasses roughly six-and-a-half million square miles according to mathematical calculations. And with what information we have on dragon settlements and their populations and distribution, we have calculated that the number of dragons in the Dragon Realms is about five million or more."

The room erupted into a massive uproar of questions that he was unprepared to answer. Left and right were screaming to try to get his attention, but he would not yield to an unruly crowd, even if his job depended on his cooperation with them. He pressed on like he planned on doing.

"Both figures are mathematical calculation, and therefore might be over or under the actual amount. As you know, there are twenty-seven million Buteos according to the latest census data, so we outnumber them in raw numbers. That is not to say that it will be easy; the dragons have several allies on their side that we have discovered. Closely allied are a species of moles that supply their craftsmanship and tribes of cheetahs – anatomically similar to us – although not all of them are totally aligned with the dragons. It is unknown at this time if other felines align themselves with the dragons.

"Another interesting finding is that there are multiple kingdoms of canines that exist within the Dragon Realms. These canines range from wolves, foxes, and even coyotes. We don't have much information about their specifics, but we know that just like the cheetahs in that, some are aligned while others are not. Another species that we have discovered is the Atlawa. We aren't really sure what they are, but they seem independent. Out of all of these species, we have options. The strongest opposition aside from dragons might be the kingdom of canines as they are more organized than the tribal nature of the cheetahs and the fuck-all that is the Atlawa. However – if you want to take this route – they would be our strongest allies."

He flipped the pages of his report to the section that would make a prolonged expedition possible: the survey of natural resources. The network of spy knew this one well as they depended on the resources there at their disposal. They had become survival experts in that they knew how to survive in an ecosystem that evolved differently to that of their own.

"When it comes to natural resources, this is where I encourage you all to read further on this subject. The plant life there can be a mixed bag as sometimes they want to act like plants and sometimes they don't. Agents scouting out a swampy area reported that there were instances of plant-like animals, but have only seen them in that area. Anyway, most of the vegetation is safe to eat, with some requiring preparation while others are ready to eat straight away. Having to forage off the land will be an easy task. Along with that, the resources needed to be extracted from the ground are plentiful with areas standing out, such as a string of heavily volcanic mountains with extraction operations once occurring; the sight is now abandoned. Other regions of intrigue are being explored as we speak, so a revision will eventually be printed off and delivered to you when that information comes to light.

"To wrap this up, I want to talk about the geography of the area that is supposed to be the landing zone. I want to make clear that these cliffs range in height depending on their location, obviously, but the location chosen to disembark the soldiers is a gradual slope that leads up from the cliffs and into the hilly plains that lie beyond. IF we can swiftly attack and march inland, we might be able to advance far enough inland that we can form a solid foothold in the Dragon Realms that will make us hard to dislodge. I will leave the rest of the report up to you to read. Long live the king, long live the kingdom."

With that, the intelligence liaison left the podium and the room altogether, leaving the rest of the occupants of the room to read over the publication that they were handed out earlier. There was still more work to be done. The message had to be sent to the agents back in the Dragon Realms to begin their sabotage operations. This would be a risky move for them to make. If they started their works too soon, then the might of the Dragon Army would be ready for the invasion force as they would be tipped off. If they were too late, then they would be no real discernible advantage.

Even then, there was so much land to cover in the Dragon Realms that there was no telling if any sabotage operations would be effective or not. If anything, they would act more like raiding groups than saboteurs. To the head of the intelligence operation, as long as they were doing something to better their war efforts later on, then he would be content with his task and label it a success.

/\/\/\

Just like he had promised, Bradan returned to the woods to take care of the spruce tree just like he said that he would. On a bar across his shoulders, he carried buckets of water with bags of wood mulch tied to the bar as well. It was an arduous hike to the hilltop, but he finally reached it. Gingerly, he let the bar down onto the ground and took a brief moment to rest. He might have been a soldier long ago and might still have a somewhat active lifestyle, but that didn't mean that he was still in peak condition that he was before.

Carefully, he watered the spruce tree, making sure to distribute the water all around the trunk. Then, he applied a liberal amount mulch around it where he watered. It wasn't anything in terms of adding nutrients to the soil, but it would help with ground retaining water. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing at all. With what he came to do being accomplished, he laid down on the soft grass next to the spruce tree. He couldn't help but feel an off sense of peacefulness that came from being in the woods around him.

"I don't know if you can hear me or not as you are, but regardless it allows me to vent my frustrations and pent-up emotions," Bradan said softly, "and it's not like if anyone finds me talking out here that they would think that I'm talking to you. I didn't tell anyone what I did with you; I hear their whispers, they think that I just released you without a vessel."

Only the wind in the trees and the sounds of nature replied to his ears.

"You probably hate me with all of your being, don't you? If you don't, then I do. At first, I was enthusiastic about the possibilities of what that accidental discovery had to offer, another step closer to discovering the secrets of the divine. Now I regret ever telling anyone about the process of manipulating souls. It eats me up from the inside, knowing that I will most likely be ordered to do it again. Even worse is that if I leave, I'm the only one with enough knowledge on the subject to perform it correctly." Little did he know of the irony of that statement. He paused his speaking, giving the impression of allowing the dragon-in-the-tree to give a reply back.

"And the fucked up thing about it is that it's so gods damned easy to do too. There are no repercussions, no limits, just keep on as much as you fucking want as long as you want! Worse yet is that the cat is already out of the bag. Even if I go and burn all of my notes, kill everyone on the team along with myself, there is already enough information floating out there by now to pick up the pieces and do it again with enough time. Worldly magic seems to have no effect whatsoever on the process at all, just the knowledge on that Mysterious Energy how to perform it, so anyone could do it."

There was no reply but the sounds of the forest around him.

"I joined this profession years ago because I thought that I could put my skills to use for good rather than to kill. We honed our magical skills, discovered the wondrous powers of alchemy, made decades – no, centuries worth of progress in just two decades. Now here I am again, using my skills for evil things."

…

"Anyway, the invasion has begun, or at least the trip going there has. The ships are expected to reach the Dragon Realms in three to four weeks, maybe sooner had there not been and damn sailboats involved. I know it's not the news that you want to hear, but it's not like you can really do anything about it now. Right now, it's a single regiment or around five-thousand soldiers. You might think that it's not that bad, but that's only a fraction of what the Royal Army's numbers are.

"I am uncertain about how this war will go, although I can assure you this: we Buteos, are stubborn creatures. We would fight beak and talon to death if our lives depended on it. I'm not sure though just how effective our fighting forces will be against trained dragon warriors, but they will fight on even in dire circumstances. Nevertheless, it has begun, and I see no way of stopping it now."

Bradan got off the ground and onto his feet, dusting himself off in the process. He slowly began to walk away from the tree before something caught his attention out of the corner of his eye. It was something that had not been seen in twenty years: spirit gems. Four gem clusters had grown since he last visited. His mood visibly improved as he walked over to examine the cluster of gemstones. There were four clusters of gems, each of them a different color: green, red, blue, and purple.

He did not break them now, instead deciding to come back another day when he could carry more back to the laboratory in the palace for further study. The implications of this "new" discovery were that now a new generation of magic practitioners could come along and assist the older generation with the studies of their abilities. With the production of red gems, there was now the possibility of utilizing its properties for their benefit as well, perhaps even extending the life of other Buteos with its properties. What stood out to him for future study was the blue and purple gems. They had only ever been seen from a distance as the dragons of the Dark Army was keen on making sure that no blue or purple gems were left behind. He was eager to unearth the secrets of their properties and how that can affect fellow avian magic practitioners.

Giving a content nod, he walked back over to where he had his buckets of water and sacks of mulch. This time, the bar was much easier to pick up without the weight of water and wood chips. "If you can hear me, Cynder, I bid you farewell." He walked back down the faint trail that had been carved out by his previous times up to that hilltop. He walked down the hill and back towards the official walking trail, unaware that every word that he said was heard by the dragon in the tree, and that she was fuming as he left

/\/\/\

Hours had passed. Cynder remained where she had been for the previous days: on the hilltop in the shade of the spruce tree, It was not a whole lot to do but lie down on the ground and twiddle thumbs until something happened. She had to admit it a relaxing break from life. But the Quillian invasion of the Dragon Realms was always on her mind – or the thoughts of what she could have done differently to avoid being in this given situation. In the end, it was hard to accept that this was the reality that she now faced.

The little thing that called itself a "dryad" kept showing up every now and then only to be shooed away. Even then, Cynder could see it watching her intently and with curiosity from a distance. As long as it wasn't going to pester her regularly, then she was going to be okay. To her slight disappointment, Astris came back again once more, but this time with others. Cynder gave a long, drawn-out sigh of pent-up irritation. They still took the appearance of dragons, sharing the same shades of green all over just like Astris.

Cynder blankly stared at them as they finally came to a stop five feet in front of her. "More Dryads?"

One of the grown ones nodded. "Yes. Astris had told us about you. We've kept a watchful eye on you ever since you've taken the place on one of our own. How did you go about doing that?" It asked intently, almost accusatory.

"Not like I had a choice getting here — well, I did actually — but it doesn't have anything to do the loss of your kind."

"Explain."

"Let's see, well, I come here to this place to stop a conflict in advance. That didn't work out too well. The Buteos — the hawk things — said they need a better way to keep me a prisoner, so they turned my body to stone and took my soul and put it here. There, that's my tragic sob-story."

"I see..."

"You got a name? I assume you know mine already."

"Iveyci."

"And the other one beside you?"

The other Dryad mentioned looked at her and said with a hushed voice: "I'm Frasia."

"Don't worry about her, Cyndie, she's shy," Astris quickly interjected. Out of all of the names that she had been called, the least that Cynder expected was Cyndie.

"So, what happened to the dryad I 'replaced,' what happened to them?"

"We ourselves are unsure. They just... vanished. And you've taken their place. That tree right there," Iveyci pointed to the evergreen, "was home to one of us. They have not been seen since you appeared attached to it."

Cynder swallowed hard, unsure of what to say. Surely they must be grieving over their lost friend? She had no idea how to comfort others; only Spyro, who she consoled through affection and practical musings. These creatures were all new to her – she didn't know how they dealt with loss or how to begin to console them. "I'm sorry..." Then she got an idea. "Maybe they're just stuck inside? Since I'm attached... Maybe only one of us can be out at a time." As she spoke, she realized how silly it sounded. But maybe it held an inkling of truth?

"Then, let's see you try to go in your then."

As much as Cynder tried, all she was able to do was phase right through it. It was almost comical watching her try and fail over and over again. While the other 'adult' dryads watched on, amused by her attempts, Astris was keeled over on the ground laughing. The laughter was more than enough for an already irritated Cynder to shoot her a hateful look. Astris remained unfazed by it, tickling her more in the process.

Frasia broke her silence and spoke up. "You'll have to excuse the young one. She's just a sprouted acorn," she deadpanned. Really? A sprouted acorn?

"It's... alright." Cynder gave Frasia a polite smile. If these Dryads were the only company she was going to get for a while, she might as well respect them, especially since she was in their home. And, as far as they knew, she was responsible for causing one of them to disappear. She sat down by her tree, defeated, and sighed. "I can't stay here like this. My city needs me..." Her tail swished in discomfort.

"Since you are stuck here for the foreseeable future, tell us, what is that city of yours like? We hear from Dryads from what the Buteos call 'Castletown' every now and then, speaking about life in the city and how they can casually observe everything without being noticed at all."

That comment only served to rub salt in Cynder's wound. Castletown – the capital of the Kingdom of Quillum and home of the royal family – was miles away. If a Dryad could travel that far from the tree that they inhabit, call home, or whatever, then why couldn't she just go any more now that fifty or so feet? Her reasonable mind kicked in and formed a likely explanation. The Dryads were not bound to their trees like she was to this one. They could go as far as they wanted so long as they returned to it, as evident by the lack of an ethereal connection to their respective trees like Cynder to hers. She thought about the question that Iveyci asked and how properly go about explaining it to them. She came up with her answer.

Cynder mused for a moment, pondering the best way to describe it. "It's like a city of gold... Well, mostly sandstone, but lots of gold too. Worn stone roads, quite lively at times since the war ended..." She looked down at her claws. War was closer again than she ever could have imagined. "It's... Really nice there. Lots of species live together. Dragons and moles, and canines, and even a cheetah here and there, though they mostly live in villages down in the valley. The marketplace is booming, with shipments from all over the realms coming in and going out. It's like an all-new city compared to what it was like during the Dark War. It's too bad it's just going to be beaten into the dust again..." '_No_,' she thought. '_I can't let that happen._'

"It sounds like a paradise to you mortal creatures, a fantastic place for sure. Wealthy too at that. It would certainly be a shame if such a place were to lie in ruin." Iveyci said unemotionally, an almost polar opposite to Cynder. "But you mentioned this 'Dark War.' Is this the same one as the Buteo's fought twenty years ago or just a naming coincidence?"

Cynder looked up and nodded solemnly. "The Dark War was started by the purple dragon Malefor. He wanted to destroy the world... To create a new one that he would rule. I didn't know until recently that the Buteos had been attacked. I didn't even know who the Buteos were." She dipped her head again to avoid the dryads' eyes and curled her tail over her paws in a guarded fashion. "Even when I was his first in command..." She spoke the last part quietly, still ashamed of her past, but also feeling foolish. How could she possibly have not known about the attacks on the Buteos? Did Malefor keep quiet about it so that she wouldn't stray too far from the realms? Too far... from him?

All of the Dryads there exchanged looks at one another after that recent revelation. It was had to notice their silent judgment. "You? In command of the Dark Armies? You barely look old enough to be alive when the events here transpired." Iveyci replied back more in confusion than in any form of anger.

Frasia broke her silence once again. "So that was why the world broke apart... we lost quite a few to that. Perhaps you being in the dark, no pun intended, was a blessing in disguise. Word can travel around fast between us Dryads, and we all collectively know more than any of you mortals could ever want to know." She paused for a brief moment, eyeing Iveyci, almost as if to ask for permission to speak. Iveyci nodded, and Frasia turned back to Cynder.

"The truth is that the Buteos had become an extremely formidable force to be reckoned with, even back then. You have to understand that the Buteos successfully fought back four field armies, which if you truly the first in command of the dark army, is two-hundred thousand soldiers apiece, a total of six-hundred thousand Ape soldiers. The Buteos only had two field armies to work with, as well as various militia groups organized by ordinary citizens. On top of that, they were able to slay twenty-three dragons of the Dark Army in two months. Once the remaining dragons left, they slaughtered the many remaining apes that could not escape."

If there were as many Dryads as Frasia, Iveyci, and Astris was letting on, then perhaps they were truly the most reliable source of information. Assuming that for each tree, a nature spirit lived in it, then there could be hundreds if not thousands of witnesses to a single event. While that was great in terms of credibility, that was not the information that Cynder was looking for. It only increased the amount of dread she had.

"What Frasia is trying to say, Cynder," Iveyci cut off Frasia, looking disappointed that her train of thought had been cut off like it did, "The invasion of Traeblesh was the biggest mistake that the Dark Army had ever made. Keeping it quiet from you was probably to keep you from coming back here when he knew that the Buteos were able to slay his most valuable assets. And if he was going to destroy the world anyway, then why bother with a bunch of hawks in a far-off place?"

Cynder tapped her claws on the ground in thought. "You're right. That does make sense." She sighed. "I wish there was something I could have done. Anything..." She let her shoulders drop and met each dryad's gaze, trying to convey all the apologies she couldn't get out in words through her own eyes.

"Why so sad-looking, Cyndie?" Astris said, utterly oblivious to what had just been said, most likely not able to understand what the conversation was about in the first place. "You didn't do anything wrong to us to get sad over. We didn't even know you until now." The innocents from the youthful little spirit were more than enough to warm even the coldest of hearts.

Cynder felt a pang in her heart at the little dryad's innocence. Although, perhaps there was a bit of truth to it. Cynder didn't have much of a choice in being shoved into a tree, and she didn't know anything about the Dryads beforehand either. Although she could help but blame herself a little, Astris, the first truly friendly face she'd seen since she came to this continent, truly didn't think that she had done anything wrong. Even the news that she had once been the general of a great evil army hadn't shaken this spirit's... well, spirit. Cynder couldn't help but give Astris a small smile. "Well, since I'm likely going to be stuck here a while, I'm glad I've got a little company."

"So we are friends then?" The little spirit asked gleefully.

Cynder gave a playful huff, defeated. "I suppose we are." She laid down by her tree, crossing her front paws in front of her and letting her wings fold comfortably at her sides.

"Yay!" The Dryad, with all her youth, ran forth filled with energy and playfully jumped on Cynder, uncaring that she had gotten comfortable or not. Despite the spirit being incorporeal, there was a weight behind her pounce, not much, but that of a hatchling. "Thank you so very much!" Everyone there to bear witness to it couldn't help but smile. Perhaps this wasn't so bad after all.

* * *

Ignitus didn't know where to begin. There had been instances of the Buteos already in the Dragon Realms taking aggressive actions against dragons, more so defensively or opportunistically that intentional. On top of that, the Elemental Guardians and the military staff of the Dragon Army had begun mobilization – although not big enough to counter the looming threat. He cursed at those ignorant generals. Then again, Ignitus had not contacted them in their dreams yet, so it was not entirely their fault. Another blunder on his part.

He looked over with contempt at the stack of books that he had willed forth to document the progress of this war. It was the thought that the peaceful age that he was supposed to silently look over was taken away so quickly and replaced with such a cataclysmic event that would require ten stacks of book with ten in each – all the while having ten thousand pages a piece – that would equal out to an offensively large one-million pages. He pushed aside his resentment and began to document all that he had been able to see. He willed forth a book from the top of the stack and cracked it open. He left the first one-hundred pages blank to leave room for retroactive editing on the origins of the war; while he only had jurisdiction over dragons, we would try to give the Buteos an equal representation when he had their side of the story available.

He began with the journey of Cynder and how, in an attempt to challenge fate, flew out to the far-off continent. He was meticulous in every detail, looking back on the Books of Time to her life to see just exactly all that she was thinking and doing. What troubled him was that there was what seemed to be her inaction in the week before her petrification. It was in the pages of the book of her life that he had gotten the answer. Her inaction was a measure to ensure that the invasion was no worse than it already would be as any more actions that she could have done after her attack on the Royal Family would have only increased the Quillian war effort and savagery while fighting. If her attack was enough to re-galvanize the kingdom's populace with anti-dragon hate, then there was no telling what would happen if she did anything further. As dumb of an action that looked at face value, it was a strategic move that saved countless lives.

Next was the story of Petra and her son Granite, or Grant, as he preferred to call himself. They were the first of many civilians that would be entirely uninvolved in the coming war but got wrapped up in it anyway. He was able to see and record the meeting that she was invited to as well. He shared her thoughts on what happened, and he had an absolute record to work with. The Buteos that Grant – quite literally – stumbled across showed no intention of killing or maiming him or his mother at all. Seeing he was able to see a replay of events that transpired in the pool of vision and their expressions and reactions were evident of that. Grant's screaming alerted Petra to her son's distress, resulting in one Buteo tackling him and holding his snout shut to keep from further screams from possibly alerting other dragons. The only thing aggressive that they did was shoot Petra in the leg with one of their crossbows, but only after she had blasted the one on top of her son, falling into their cooking fire was a total accident. Ignitus reasoned that she was one of the lucky ones that would get off with what injuries she had sustained.

Next and last was Terrador's meeting with the leadership of the Dragon Army. This went as predictable as he expected it to. Ignitus might have led his troops into battle, but even he had to answer to a higher authority. He knew these old farts well enough to know that they would think that this would be like another war against the Dark Army. They would be sorely mistaken. The apes were dumb creatures that relied on brute strength and savagery to win their fights. Of what he could piece together from the Quillians, they were intelligent and cunning, just as much as the dragons were, if not more. Regardless, he would have to communicate with them quickly, or they would face defeat after defeat using improper strategies and tactics against a new foe.

With all that he could document recorded, he bookmarked the page and levitated the book over to a lectern where he would continue to work on it vigilantly. Even though he had no need to sleep given his ascended status, Ignitus found himself eager for some. Out of all of the comforts that the Celestial Caves offered, a real bed was not one of them. Unfortunately, while he was able to will forth as much ink, quills, and books as he wanted, the aforementioned bed was not one of them. Until them, he would have to get comfortable lying on the cold, stone floor. Maybe in his dreams, the Ancestors would give him some guidance. It was ironic that the one that was to provide guidance was the one in need of it

* * *

Another nightmarish sequence, or rather opportunity to allow Spyro to experiment with his newfound abilities. After learning a few days ago that he was able to manifest his imagination in the pocket dimension of Dark Spyro. And with what was a literal lifetime in one night, he had more than enough time to practice. He knew for sure that he could manifest Astral Cynder again without trouble. He was able to render a meal to keep him from perpetually starving in this blank field that Dark Spyro had been keeping him in. Small things lead to more substantial things to the point where he was able to create a forest or mountain in the field. This inevitably lead to Dark Spyro getting irritated that his plan of driving him insane via isolation backfired. This night though, Dark Spyro had enough of the isolation not working and instead turned back to old fashioned torture to try and break the young purple dragon's spirit.

This, too, would backfire as Spyro was able to manifest whatever he wanted in the empty void where they did combat just like in the blank field. Instead of the usual one-sided one-versus-one that Dark Spyro was accustomed to, Spyro had help. It was the manifestation of Astral Cynder that came to his aid, which Dark Spyro was not prepared to handle. Truthfully, he was struggling.

"You are one crafty son of a bitch," Dark Spyro growled lowly, "I've fought off hundreds, nay, thousands at once before to get to where I am, but I was not expecting such difficulty thanks in part to you manifesting your play-thing."

"Don't you dare talk about her like that!" Spyro was taken aback momentarily by that Dark Spyro's statement. He was no stranger to his crude and downright foul language, but this struck a nerve that most other times did not.

"Protective, are we?"

"I can handle myself, Spyro," Astral Cynder quickly and snappily interjected. At an inhumanly (indragonly?) fast speed, she lunged forward and mauling the right side of Dark Spyro's face while he was distracted. He never once winced in pain or filched. Real or not, she certainly sounded like the real Cynder and dish out just as much damage just as well.

"That was awfully ballsy for someone to not have any," Dark Spyro remarked lewdly, lapping up the readily flowing blood with his tongue, savoring its taste. It appears that he had no obscenity filter either, "If you were real, I would rip your insides out."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"Come on, Cynder," Spyro yelled, "We can end if we keep this up!" Both dragons readied themselves to deliver the finishing blows that would finally down their opponent. Dark Spyro took a defensive stance in preparation.

"Got it!"

"Now!"

The dragons began their assault on Dark Spyro. Astral Cynder, with blisteringly fast speeds, dealt numerous quick blows to the black dragon. The swift attacks from Astral Cynder kept him occupied with blocking, leaving windows of opportunity for Spyro to come in and deal much heavier blows. The strategy worked. It wasn't a short battle, though, progressing on for a half-hour or more. Blow by blow, the dark dragon eventually began to weaken, leaving even more opportunities for more devastating attacks. Dark Spyro finally collapsed into a pool of his own blood. It a twist of fate; it was Spyro's tailblade against Dark Spyro's throat instead of his. Astral Cynder standing by his side ready with some sort of breath attack in anticipation of some trick that Dark Spyro might pull.

"Go on, wimp, do it, you don't have the balls," He said to the purple dragon standing above him.

"Not yet. I have something to ask."

Dark Spyro's expression of pure hatred and contempt lessened slightly. What would the purple dragon gain from asking him a question? "Now's your chance, better make it quick before I decide no," he said plainly.

"Who are you exactly?"

"..."

"You aren't the dark side of me. You might look the part, but you think and act as if you are something else that. You are not what you pretend to be. So I ask, just who or what are you?"

"It took you long enough," Dark Spyro weakly chuckled, "Nyobaer..."

"Thank you for your cooperation. Now begone."

Spyro did the same to onto his dark reflection the same as he did onto him the first night. The form of Dark Spyro dissolved rapidly into a mist until there was nothing left. With that, the empty void that they fought in was finally empty, the beam of Dark Aether that served as the only source of illumination faded to nothing. The single source of light left was the pinpricks of light that constituted Astral Cynder's body. With their adversary defeated, they hugged each other in a prolonged embrace.

But that was not the end of it. Spyro felt it thanks to his powers over electricity: the nondescript air became heavy with static, more than enough to fluff out all the hair on a Cheetah. Then, a massive bolt of dark purple lightning struck near them. Wincing at the loud boom, they quickly panned their heads over to where the strike landed in time to see a silhouette of a figure illuminated by the bright flash of light. The figure stood maybe thirty or so feet away from them and stood tall over them. All that remained was red flaring eyes looking back at them, sending a wave of primordial fear through the both of them.

"I will concede defeat to you, Spyro. It seems that my plans have backfired and that you are not going to be easy to break as I thought. I will leave you be. That does NOT mean that I will stop. Next time, there will be no bitch to save you from me. Keep this in your mind!" The figure called out in a dark, sinister voice.

/\/\/\

It was still night time when Spyro woke up. He didn't move from his bed, the primal fear that he felt was still in full effect, even though there was not anything to be afraid of now. After laying their curled up, he eventually eased and got off of the bed cushion. He stretched any part of his body that could be, popping many joints while he was at it. If Dark Spyro held his word, then it would be the last time that he would have to worry about him disturbing him. He was half tempted to partake in underage drinking to celebrate. Then those words came echoing back to him. "Next time, there will be no bitch to save you from me."

He knew what Dark Spyro had meant when he said that. Cynder had been the only one that knew how to take him out of that darkened state. She was still gone. His moment of celebration was interrupted by the concerns of her well-being. Although Cynder was highly optimistic when she said that she would be back in two weeks, he was starting to wonder if the longer that she was over there, the higher the chance was that she would be caught. The thought of what those creatures might do to her was something that he didn't want to dwell on.

He pushed those thoughts away only for them to go back to what Dark Spyro said, or what was pretending to be Dark Spyro said. He had confirmation of what he expected: that whatever it was that was taking the form of Dark Spyro was pretending to be something that it wasn't. Remembering the brief glimpse at the silhouette that he saw from that bolt of dark purple lightning sent shivers from the base of his skull to the tip of tailblade. More mysterious was that he actually told Spyro its name, a name that would reverberate in his mind.

"Nyobaer..."

* * *

**First off, I hope everyone had a merry Christmas and a happy new year.**

**Special thanks to SatelliteBlues for assisting in the creation of dialogue in this chapter! I really do appreciate the help that you gave. It certainly gave a lovely freshness to it. **

**Here it is, the last passive chapter before the real shit begins. I wasn't expecting to have both sides have a briefing on the subject of warfare, but I think that it works better for building the tension this round in a sort of "both sides are ready to roll" kind of fashion. Also, the song for this chapter sounded much better in theory but doesn't really fit for the whole thing, so maybe it's best just to play it where the rag-tag ship band plays it. **

**Also, I can already feel the comments about the large dragon population now. There is a reason for that, though. If the dragon population is low, then not only does that that mean that they cannot amass more soldiers against the Buteos, but they are less willing to send them into combat because of the implications of population loss. Yes, I am aware that the dragons were hunted in the games and faced a population crisis, but this is where I have to take some creative liberties. **

–**Abyssal**


	12. Landing Day

**Reviewer Response**

**To SatelliteBlues: Once again, thank you for your help with the dialogue.**

**To Hunter of City: it doesn't matter if it is a long review or a short review; I appreciate them equally =). It's funny that you mentioned the weather because that was being taken into account for this story as **_**I think **_**I implied that Treablesh was in the northern hemisphere while the dragon realms are in the southern hemisphere. Thanks again for the suggestions, because some of them might be taken into account for later in the story =). **

* * *

_Chapter 11: Landing day_

_Song: War's come to our shores – Grimgotts_

_A Realm only chapter_

* * *

For the past few weeks, the dragon army had remained on alert status but was still mostly skeptical of the threat they had been alerted to. Many simply refused to believe that there was another war on the horizon right after the last one had finished not even a year later. Others couldn't believe that this threat was coming from a race of hawks. While the command structure has received messages from the Chronicler and had become somewhat convinced that was a credible threat, overall, the limited number of soldiers were not confident that there was any threat at all. That didn't stop the command structure from giving out orders.

It was up to the corps of engineers to develop their defensive fortification that the soldiers could help protect the realms from. These engineers – dragons of all kinds and of other races – worked closely together to plan out and build these fortifications. Dragons, Moles, Cheetahs, Canines, and even an Atlawa or two, all worked hand-in-hand to assist the development of these structures. Some of these forts were sprawling complexes with several below and above ground floors, others were simply a fortified barracks.

Among all of these forts being built, the most ambitious would be those that will surround Warfang. Five massive forts were to be constructed and connected together with thick walls forming a pentagon with the city in the center. Of all of the projects, it would take the most manpower and resources. Thankfully, these were a distant priority, and places that needed the fortifications the most would receive them first before work on the massive complex would begin. However, so many locations have been deemed a priority for them, and resources were already strained.

One of these priority forts under constriction was one called Fort Arder. This remote fort was being constructed on the northern coast of the Dragon Realms as a mean of warding off any of the supposed ships that the corps of engineers had been told might arrive someday. The geography was good for an enemy force to land, with a slope from the cliffs down to the beaches being the perfect access point to move soldiers inward. There were some problems, though. The quality of the masonry already completed was called into question as the natural stone deposits in the area were not as high quality as the engineers had hoped it to be. The solution to the problem is to thicken all defensive assets and hope that it would not give way under siege. Another apparent issue was the isolation of the location. If there was to be a breakthrough here, then there wasn't much in between to stop them.

That did not deter those that were working in it, nor did it slow their efforts. On the contrary, it only sought to make them work faster. If they were going to fight off an invasion force, then they would do so, giving the rest of the realms as much time as they could offer. Even with this quickened working pace, there was still a lot that had to be done. For a Canine, there was still plenty of armaments to be emplaced.

MacNelly was a former Skavenger under the command of Scabb before the Dark Army attacked and destroyed Felmuth and most of the fleet. In the fleet, his job was to service the cannons that the Skavengers would use in their pillaging raids. He was lucky that he wasn't on the arena ship when the Dark Army attacked, otherwise he would have perished in the chaos. The boat that he was on was one of the few that came out unscathed. Most of the crew went their own ways, mainly back to the canine kingdoms that they hailed from, and MacNelly was no different. The family of wolves accepted him back with open arms, but distraught at the fact that their income had been significantly reduced, and that they were back to the way that they were living before he took to a life of plunder to provide for them.

After the World's Fracture, he and his family decided, among other things, to move to Warfang to seek out a better life than the one that they were living. They were not alone. He and his family had met up with other canines: Foxes, other wolves, and some coyotes, all made their way to the dragon city in hopes of a better future. And with the city needing a lot of repairs to be completed, there was plenty of money to be made. Money made by hard labor.

Block by block, he and his family – both the men and the women – worked themselves until exhaustion in the rebuilding process. Just when they were finally at their wit's end, things improved. There had finally been enough rebuilding and repairs to reduce the demand in hard labor, allowing them to take up the professions that they held before they left their home kingdom. That meant one thing for Ronan: work on military equipment. With a little bit of training, he became all too familiar with the dragon catapults worked and introduced the conventional cannon to the ranks of dragon weapons, which in typical honorific fashion, had the muzzles cast in the shape of a dragon's head. His job became to service the many cannons that would be protecting the city from any future threat.

That inevitably landed him at Fort Arder, where he would be the one who would be in charge of installing them into their respective locations. It was here that he would be able to do some experimenting with some design ideas that he had come up with, such as the idea for a rotating turret to house the cannons in. The armaments themselves were another story. They were twenty-four pounder long cannons that could deliver a six-inch round shot or grapeshot out to quite an adequate range. These were some of the best guns that the Skavengers used in terms of overall effectiveness – the absurdly large cannons that some of their ships mounted were more akin to mortars than actual cannons. There was no other cannon that was as effective as that one was, or that is what the assumption was

The first of three two-gun turrets were installed at the fort and were fully operational with test firing assuring that they worked properly. With the glorious thing that was trigonometry and mathematics to estimate ballistic trajectory, It was calculated from a flat trajectory that the splashes of water in the distance was about three-quarters of a mile out given that they had an elevation boost on the clifftop. It was more than satisfactory. There was no other cannon that had the elevation and range to hit the turrets. Everything was good. Content with his work, he walked over to the site of another turret to begin the installation once the materials needed eventually arrived.

/\/\/\

The day so far had been decently okay. Many things went in Spyro's favor, which was a first. Today, he walked through the streets of Warfang, looking at the changing city. Ever since the defeat of Malefor, many different peoples from many different species began migrating their way to the city. To the mostly dragon inhabitants, they initially did not understand why there were so many new arrivals until they were questioned about it. The answers varied, but they had the same underlying desire: to live a better life. Many had come to the city because they saw it as better protection against antagonistic forces, others came because they saw it as an opportunity to grow wealthy and prosperous. Sometimes it was that they were displaced and needed somewhere to stay.

They were all welcomed inhabitants, those of brute strength or cunning wits, it did not matter. It was these inhabitants that he wished to see and set about walking the bustling city streets. That in of itself was a journey all on its own.

From the temple, his home, the closest borough was the residential district. This was the fastest-growing since the end of the war. With the war thinning the numbers of dragons, there was plenty of vacant housing before, during, and after the war. As a wave of migration coming to the city, those empty houses were filled quickly with dragons, and other races alike. Soon, there would have to be major expansions before available space ran out; the wall of the city would prevent the outward spread of the residential district. The solution would come with development both vertical, but interestingly, more emphasis being placed on downward expansion. While there was not much done at the moment, predicted growth would create an entire underground version of the city.

Next was the market district. Out of all of the paces in the city, this was the most crowded and alive at any given moment, and it was the most diverse out of them all. Here, people from all across the land come to buy and sell their goods. It made Warfang the trading hub of the Dragon Realms. But the most exciting place was the bazaar. Here, there was something different every day, hell, every hour almost, with the most obscure items of value available for purchase. You might find there a set of ancient artifacts or find someone's two-day-old burned baked potato. If you are willing to go even deeper into the bazaar, you were more likely to find explicit activities. Many came forth offering Spyro their "services," but he knew better and denied them every time they offered.

Next on the trip was the cultural district, more informally known as "The Fun Zone." Here was where all the leisure activities in the city could be found. It was also where the plaza was that Spyro and Cynder made it snow for a short moment, and where Spyro had frozen Ember in place after she pestered him. She had told the Guardians about what had happened to her, exaggerating the details to get them in her favor. The Guardians were not as gullible as she took them to be, and they immediately dismissed her exaggerated tale and believed the one Spyro had told them. There was more to this area than just gathering areas, there were theaters, arenas, playgrounds, and even more places to spend your time. Spyro wished that Cynder was here with him to enjoy the leisure time that they get.

Content with his walk through the city, he returned to the temple, now with a new burning question on his mind: where exactly was Cynder? He had reassured himself many times that her journey would take time to accomplish, but now, over a month had passed, and there was no word from her at all. He, like any other lover in a relationship, was genuinely concerned, and not in the "I hope she is safe on her journey" way but in a "She has been gone for too long for this kind of task" kind of way. If there was one person that he could go to for help, it was Pyra. He found her sitting on the balcony, where she could usually be found sitting in her free time.

"Can you do me a favor?" Spyro asked, quietly and lowly.

Pyra had a day where nothing was on her scheduled accept for anything that she hadn't done that needed to be, which there was none. It finally gave her some time off from her governing and educational duties. "Sure. I have nothing going on today, so this is a perfect time." She replied happily. "What is it that you need?"

"Can you come and see if you can see anything on Cynder's whereabouts? I seem to no longer be able to use the Pool."

"Absolutely, let's go see if we can get anything."

Both dragons made their way to the innermost sanctum of the temple, where the Pool lay waiting with water that was somewhat stagnant by now. But that didn't matter in the end as long as they got the results that they were looking for. Both of them stared off into the water, hoping for some kind of result, it didn't matter if it was a nondescript image or one so vivid that they couldn't interpret all of it before it faded. It took time, but eventually, an image came. To Spyro's eyes, there was nothing but blackness like there had been before. Pyra saw the whole picture, and she did her best to be as descriptive as possible. It was the same one with the evergreen that she had seen weeks earlier, but with a little change.

"Remember that image of an evergreen tree? It's that again but with some changes. It's the same thing, but this time, spirit gems adorn the hilltop. I also see a vague outline – more of a wispy form – of creatures around the hilltop at the treeline and one around the base of the tree, but that is about it."

To say that Spyro was filled with disappointment was an understatement. He wanted something specific, not some vague clue like the one that got him kidnapped by sky pirates. "Is there anything else that you can see?"

"I'm getting to that..." Pyra once again peered into the waters in search of answers. There was none to be found. After twenty minutes, she gave up. "I'm sorry, Spyro. That's all I can see right now."

"Oh… Okay."

"I can tell that you are concerned about her. Everyone can tell by the way that you act that something is not right."

"Well, she said that she would be back in two weeks. Yeah, it was a confidant and sarcastic remark, but she would have been back by now if she had succeeded in what she wanted to accomplish. I'm just worried that she isn't coming back, that those creatures have kept her prisoner, or have killed her."

Pyra had to think fast to lighten the mood a bit. The had just celebrated the fact that Spyro had gone for so long without those incessant nightmares that had plagued him for months prior not too long ago. There was no need to return to the doom and gloom. "Well, at least I am getting something. If she was dead, I probably would not have seen a thing. She is out there somewhere."

"I just hope that she's not hurt."

"We all do, little one."

Spyro left the room and went about his regular business. Pyra, though, had other plans. Even if she had not seen anything, that wasn't going to stop her from trying her best to get something _else_. She stayed behind in the room, and once again tried to get a vision. It wouldn't take minutes this time, but hours, about four to be exact. She had put aside her own needs to try to give the little dragon some form of solace. Then, she got what she was looking for.

The picture in the Pool finally changed. It was a strange image, like a vertical panoramic image, which was highly uncommon to see in that orientation, much less a panoramic image at all. It was the same hilltop but at a different time. The rays of the sun that the previous image had was gone, replaced instead by moonlight. The wispy figures were back again, but around the base of the hill rather than in among the treeline around it, and were all looking skyward. All around the sides of the hill were a multitude of symbolic inscriptions, the meaning of which alluded the best of Pyra's knowledge. The top of the image was a different story. It was a silhouette of a dragon floating in front of the moon. When the image faded to nothing but her reflection in the Pool.

It was definitely an image that was up to some wild mass guessing as to what it meant. There was no clear indication of malice but no clear evidence of benevolence either. Pyra was not sure if she should share this information with Spyro or not. There really wasn't much more damage such a revelation would do to the little dragon other than compounding what he already felt. It was a tricky situation to be in. The guardians had been withholding information from him already, and it burned Pyra up on the inside, knowing that they were dishonest with him. Little that they knew, he too was keeping secrets.

Ever since the last nightmare, Dark Spyro, or Nyobaer as he so-called himself, had not harassed him one bit. Not in waking or sleeping hours. He was still lurking within him, and Spyro had not told anyone about it. He reckoned that it was for the best that he keep it simple, that the nightmares stopped, and that things were somewhat back to normal. Granted, he was still unable to receive any messages from the Chronicler, nor was he able to use the Pool of visions, but that was better than a living ever sleeping hour in a realm where he was tortured perpetually or forced to live an entire lifetime in eight hours.

In the end, neither could be guilty when the other found out. Someone as respectable as the Elemental Guardians shouldn't be intentionally withholding information from the purple dragon just to keep him in their favor. Yet, the purple dragon shouldn't keep quiet about something potentially massive because it would mean losing the freedoms that he had due to the constant observation that would be put into place. Both sides would be disappointed when they both found out, but at least they could all be mutually disappointed with each other.

/\/\/\

The time was now for the intelligence network to switch their mission from passive information gathering to sabotage operations, but they had to do it now and fast. Otherwise, the defenders will be too aware of their presence for them to effectively be able to take advantage of the relaxed defenses. Many other things were not in their favor, either. If they knew exactly when the invasion force would land, then they could coordinate the best attacks for maximum effectiveness. Unfortunately for them, they did not have such luxuries and were operating on an "If not contacted by this date, follow orders as directed" basis. They would do what they could with what they had.

Another inconvenience was the location of the many five-man teams that were spread throughout the Dragon Realms. They were too few and far between to have a dramatic effect on certain areas individually, and had to do as much damage as possible to give their brothers-in-arms the best advantage as they could. All of the groups made their way to their targets. The group that had resided in the swamp was no different.

They had the freedom of movement for their primary mission; they moved on from the swamp and onto other locations. For one, they had to as their cover had been blown, and that one of their own had been injured by a powerful blast of an elemental attack. Thankfully, the victim of the attack had not been too severely wounded but ached all over from the blunt force trauma. Even with the lack of advanced medical treatment options in the Dragon Realms without blowing their cover, he made a good recovery with the care that his teammates. With his recovery, they had a new mission to accomplish.

The journey was a tough one, mainly due to having to keep their stealthy guise up, avoiding any potential pockets of civilization. At the same time, they made their way to the designated gathering point. Lucky for them, they were able to fly for the most part thanks to localized clouds blocking them from sight as they flew through and above them. When they arrived, it turns out that they were the last ones to come, making the raiding party a total of twenty strong. It wasn't much, but it would have to do. Their targets were all predesignated by the intelligence headquarters as "targets of value." What they meant by value exactly alluded them as there were plenty of other things that could be attacked and have a higher impact. But their orders were orders, and they had to be followed.

In their sights was a Cheetah village. On the edge of a forest, It wasn't big by any means but was a location that merchant convoys used to rest during the night on the long trip to and from cities or other villages. With the village buildings built of wood with thatched roofs, it would be easy to light aflame the many building in the town, given that there was a large enough distraction for the Quillian force to get the fires started. The village had some decent defenses for Cheetah standards, with wooden walls with a battlement where the archers of the town could shoot at any assailing force. It wouldn't be easy, but it could be done.

On a watch post, an archer stood, watching out mostly for any incoming traffic. The time of peace allowed them to reduce their alertness to attack – even with the Dragon Army's limited mobilization – they still were not expecting any attack anytime soon. From the treeline in the brush many yards from the village walls, the Quillians began to load their windlass crossbows. Out of all ranged arms that the Royal Quillian Army had, this was by far the most advanced – unless the army brass finally got their heads out of their asses and adopted some of the weapons that many hunting lodges used – arms that were more advanced that their crossbows. The crossbow was formidable, the advances in metallurgy allowed for the bow steel to flex enough for a twelve-inch power stroke and a hefty drawl weight requiring a windlass to pull the bowstring back. The crossbow bolts were also intimidating, using arrowheads designed to cause as much injury as possible.

"Who here is the best shot? We will need the accuracy," one of the Buteos said, making sure to keep her voice quiet. They did not know just how well a cheetah could hear. "Because if you can't shoot for shit, then you're better off to go burn the place." Everyone there could shoot a crossbow, but it did not mean that they were able to fire it effectively. Those that could took a step forward.

"Do we have any kind of fuel?" another Buteo asked. "the faster we can get in there and light up that village, the quicker we can get out."

"Well, we've all got some turpentine, but this stuff is to keep the lice and other shit off of us." One said, turning his head to the group, then bringing his attention back to the guard on the watchtower.

"Well, we aren't going to use it all, just enough to get it going."

"You better, otherwise I'm not helping you when you are itching out of your feathers."

"That's fair."

"Alright, you two," the female said, "clamp your beaks and let's get to it. Crossbowmen, give those of us setting fires five minutes to get to the other side of the village. When that time has passed, open fire and draw their attention away while we sneak over the walls on the other side and light the fires. The Cheetahs as skilled archers, so use the land here to our advantage. Use the trees as cover and the brush to obscure your movements."

"So you want us to get shot at while you go play with fire?" one of the crossbowmen asked.

"That's exactly what I'm asking. If you all are as good of a shot as you say that you are, then you should have no problem hitting them too," the lady said smugly. "Pitter-patter, let's her at 'er"

Those reluctant to take up arms against the Cheetah village shouldered their loaded crossbows while five fire starters would make their way quietly over to the other side of the town. They trodded lightly through the woods, avoiding excessive noise and reducing their chances of being spotted. When they said that it would take about five minutes to get over there, it really did, more so in that their wings and tail feathers kept getting snagged on branches and the underbrush. They were fortunate that they got to the other side in the time that had been given. Those that would fly over the walls had their matchboxes out, ready to strike as many as needed to light up the thatched roofs and wooden walls.

The sound of the bolt being loosed by the crossbow was highly noticeable, being able to be heard from the other side of the village. The poor guardsman on the watchtower, though, made an even more noticeable noise when he fell off the tower and to the ground below. The bolt had struck the poor guard in the neck with enough force to drive it through his windpipe, spine, and out the back of his neck. To say that there was a massive response was an understatement. Many archers ran to the walls and frantically looking at where the bolt had come from. Another Buteo loosed a bolt, striking one in the chest, drawing more attention.

With the village sufficiently distracted, the fire fire-starters flew over the wall and onto five separate buildings. Their medicinal turpentine, kept in a glass bottle, and meant to remove parasites, had a small amount splashed onto a section of the straw roof. Matchboxes were produced from their pouches, stuck, and set the turpentine and straw alight. It had been dry and sunny for the past few days, the straw for the roof was old, and there was even a breeze that was in their favor. With straw alight, the quickly leaped over to new roofs where they repeated the same process. As much as they tried to sneak around, they inevitably got caught by one of the village children.

"Dad, look! On the roofs!" the child yelled. The Cheetah's words did not have any meaning to them, but it turned their attention from their task to the little girl on the ground, looking in horror at what she was seeing. Their cover had been blow, and they would be easy pickings for any archers that would have their attention brought to them.

["Shit! We gotta go and fast!"] the female saboteur said, quickly stashing the bottle of turpentine and the matches in her hands. ["Out cover has been blow!"]

They promptly took flight back over the wall, narrowly avoiding loosed arrows. Running back into the woods, they made their way back to where the other Buteos were shooting their crossbows from. Things had not gone according to plan. Even with the terrain advantage in their favor, that didn't stop the Cheetah archers from being accurate with their shots. While all of them were alive, it was uncertain how many would survive the coming days. Those that were healthy helped those that were injured, and they made their way through the woods away from the carnage that was becoming the burning village.

They were fortunate to get away from the felines, but they were not sure why. Perhaps they had injured enough to prevent a pursuit party, or maybe their attention was directed to the soon-to-be raging fires that would consume at least ten of the village buildings. Their fortune would run out. Out of the ten crossbowmen that had stepped forward, the six injured would eventually succumb to their wounds. The five others that had served as assistant loaders had two that were injured, but non-fatal injuries. Those that were in the swamp earlier were lucky that they were all alive, but the three other five-man teams had experienced a loss of their own.

They were not sure what they would do with the bodies. They couldn't just leave them here to rot and to be found, but they couldn't be carrying dead weight where ever they went. There was no time to dig them graves either. They came to a grim decision: they would have to cremate the bodies. Those that were still healthy got to work, some dug a small pit for the fuel, others gathered up any kind of firewood, and one went about the rituals needed for an event such as this. When the time had come, the shallow pit was dug and what all combustible materials – fallen branches from pine trees were common, thankfully – were placed in first, then the bodies on the bed of fuels, and another layer of fuel around and over them for good measure.

The whole scene was somber. Not only did the raiding party lose those that were close to them, but they also were not sure if they had enough firewood to perform the cremation properly. They didn't have the time to gather any more that what was available, and lit the funeral pyre. Their concern about not having enough wood came to fruition. While the pine did burn very hot, but out fast at the same time. It didn't do much at all other than fill the air with the harsh smell of burning flesh. Of all of those that remained, they shamefully left. They saw their mission as a failure, and themselves as a failure. They left the gruesome scene, ashamed, disappointed, and downtrodden.

/\/\/\

Ronan MacNelly worked on the second turret for a while, doing so sluggishly by now. The shipment of materials came in, and he, along with others, was fast at work on constructing the second turret. There was still plenty of sunlight left, but everyone was equally ready to stop what they were doing like it had fully set. Even the site foreman, a seasoned Mole engineer, knew it too. They had overexerted themselves to get finished, and fallen short of their goals. And they were so close to finishing too. In good faith, he had them dismissed for the day to rest and recuperate. Everyone there was more than glad too.

Some of them went down to the beach to wash themselves off, others flopped in a shady area only to fall asleep in the sandy dirt, others went about doing what they usually would have done, although with a more sluggish pace. But the one thing that everyone did was give thanks to the foreman for being lenient on them. About an hour later, everyone gathered on the wall facing the sea, sitting and watching the waves fifty feet below them. It was peaceful. There was one thing that was missing, and they all knew what it was that they were wanting.

The booze cellar had been raided, and all were enjoying their drink. It wasn't strong alcohol by any means, but it was satisfactory. They might have been reprimanded for it, but they didn't care a bit in the world about the consequences. What could they do? Send them to jail? Give them more labor? Being locked up means time off, and they were already doing back-breaking work as it is. They just enjoyed the time that they had.

"Hey, what's that flying up there?" An earth dragon asked, pointing a claw up at the sky.

"Looks like some kind of bird to me," a water dragon said. Everyone's attention was now focused on the sight approaching them. "But it's so high up, I can't really make out any details."

"So you're an Ornithologist then," the earth dragon replied back.

"Not really. It's something that my grandmother made me do with her when I was little."

The figure got closer, almost right overhead before turning back and flying quickly back to the horizon. Everyone was not entirely sure what to think of it. They hadn't seen birds at all since they started working, much less come from the _ocean._ Something wasn't right. It wouldn't take but a few minutes to find out exactly what it was.

Before they could even see them above the horizon, the smoke from the smokestacks was visible long before the ships came into view. When they did come into sight, though, the whole construction site came to watch what was occurring before them. Yeah, they were boats all right, but not like any that they had ever seen before. It was hard to see all that well in the distance, but there were no sails or rigging visible, nor did it look like they were made of any wood. Out of all the people there, only one knew what it was.

"'Tis an ironclad," said Ronan, observing it with attentiveness.

"An iron-what?" the two other dragons said in unison.

"An ironclad, lads. It's a ship that's got a metal shell around it. Look, you can see the sun reflecting off the top o' the mast." He wasn't wrong. Even golden-colored paint of the superstructure, there was no stopping the glint of sunlight. "I see a couple 'o ships that had iron armor in places, but not never one fully clad in it." Despite their rest, they were still physically and mentally fatigued to put two and two together.

"How do you think it's moving?" The earth dragon asked.

"I ain't all that sure, lad, to tell you the truth."

"I can feel something." A new voice spoke up. It was a fire dragoness. "It's faint, but I can sense great, roaring fires in the distance. Many of them."

"I can sense something too," the water dragon spoke up, intrigued at what she was feeling. "Water under pressure turning to steam, then condensing back into water, and being boiled again. It's strange… I can't understand what exactly is happening."

"It doesn't sound familiar… If we weren't flying using the magiteck engines, we were sailing wit' wind power."

"Then who operates one, or them?" the blue dragon asked Ronan. They eventually started piecing together the clues. "Us dragons only recently started using flying ships since you canines started migrating to Warfang."

"Us Cheetahs have no need for them." A Cheetahs piped up, "We also lack the facilities needed to build such vessels."

"Does it look like we build them?" An Atlawa answered.

"We do build flying ships, but nothing like that o' there," Ronan said, quieting the longer he spoke the sentence. As the ships got closer, the details were began to fill in. There were many kinds of ships, some were small, others were big, each one having a different purpose. Little did they know that their lives would never be the same, assuming they had a life left to change."You know what that means right, everyone?"

"Yeah..." they all said together.

"They're here..." Mesmerized by the sights before them, sitting there in awe. Everyone sitting on the wall felt an imminent sense of dread. They would quickly scatter once the hell began raining on them.

/\/\/\

"Signalmen, contact the other ships. Call for general quarters." The Commodore said aboard his flagship. The ship and the Commodore had to play a game of catch-up with the rest of the fleet thanks to engine troubles keeping the ship from leaving on time with the rest of the fleet. When it arrived five days after launch, it took on a load of new coal from a coalier and took the lead of the formation of ships. It was from this ship that will command the naval ships and the ad hoc marine landing force that was the infantry of the first wave. And with it's armaments, could pack a heavy punch. "Order a left, right, and center flank is to be formed; broadside facing that fort. Marine are to go up the center to the beach and advance up the slope.

"Contact the other ships. Call for general quarters. Order formation of left, right, and center flank, facing broadside to the enemy fort. Marine force to continuing up the center to the beach, and advance up the slope, aye sir!" The signalmen said in unison, exited the bridge, and onto a bridge wing where the signaling location was located. Stored at the signaling location was every signal flag needed. Once they reached their respective stations, they signaled the other ships what to do. It didn't take long for the ships to form the ordered formation.

Once the positions were established, the Commodore was content with the positioning and gave the order. "Fire at will!" he yelled through multiple speaking tubes leading to the signaling stations on the bridge wings to signal to other ships. Even though the Commodore had a higher rank than the ship's captain, it was up to the captain to make the decisions of the flagship. The captain of the ship gave the order to fire to his crew. It wasn't long before a deafening crack sounded to the front and aft of the superstructure. The mighty eight-inch guns, in two, two-gun turrets, opened fire on the fort in the distance. Artillery observers watched patiently for the shells to arrive on target, tracing the tracer burning on the rear of the shell. All hell broke loose as shells from all the ships ripped through the air and towards their target.

* * *

**A shorter chapter thanks to the perspective being limited to those in the Dragon Realms. This the event horizon, any chance of avoidance had come and gone. All across the realms, sabotage operations have taken place, and the Quillian invasion force is right off the shore of the Dragon Realms. It's been built up for 11 chapters, it's time for the main event. **

_**Let the Buteo-Draco War Begin**_


	13. Attackers Advance

**Reviewer Response**

**To SatelliteBlues: Yep! More characters, more perspective, but a lot more character planning. Even good things have their downsides. **

**To Hunter of City: A lot of the suggestions that you mention I have actually had already been thinking about. Great minds think alike, they say. I read up on that naval battle that you mentioned. It was a good read. **

* * *

**A/N: I put a poll up on my profile. The question is: Who do you think will win the Buteo-Draco war? If you don't mind, I encourage you to vote in it, as I would love to see you opinions. **

* * *

_Chapter 12: Attackers Advance_

_Song: 40:1 – Sabaton _

* * *

"Up!"

"Fire!"

"On the way!"

With a loud boom, the cannon on the deck of the light cruiser fired its shell, spraying fire a cloud of fire and smoke. The light cruiser, positioned on the right flank of the attack, had brought its guns to bear and fired them in anger for the first time. As the loader, Ryan opened the breach, and with the wet sponge, cleaned out any remaining embers before reloading the cannon. From the magazine below, the high explosive shell was passed up through a loading hole in the deck, and a powder bag made of a silk-like. The physically demanding part of the task was picking up the shell, which was one-hundred-and-five pounds, which would weigh more and more after each reload. He heaved the round into the breach, quickly followed by the silken bag. He swung the bulky breechblock back into place and locked it shut, resetting the firing mechanism.

"Up!" He shouted, everyone's ears ringing from the previous blast, despite their best efforts to protect their hearing.

"Fire!" the gun captain yelled.

He was standing off to the side of the gun with a pair of binoculars, observing where the shell trajectory when the shell was shot. He was a brave man for sure, being almost immune to the concussive blast while the others hid behind the gunshield. The gunner pulled the lanyard, and the gun erupted with fire and smoke. Before Ryan could reload, the gun captain had to track the shells trajectory – with the helpful aid of a tracer in the rear of the shell – to its' target and call for adjustments if needed. This habit was unique to their gun's officer, with his philosophy on the matter was "better accuracy, better effectiveness" instead of the prevailing action of "put as much steel downrange as possible." Their guns were not what one might call "high angle," so their shelling had to rely on what altitude the shells got to make it over the cliff and into the enemy fort itself for the bombardment to have any effect. To say that they were having trouble getting the range and elevation right was an understatement. This was as much a ranging operation as it was that of shelling. When the gun officer saw the impact, he let out a low growl in frustration.

"Adjust transverse by ten mills and keep the elevation." At those ranges, any slight deviation of the ship of the gun would cause the shell to potentially miss

"Adjust transverse by ten mills and keep the elevation, aye sir!" the aiming personnel repeated the command back and affirming the order. Once the order was repeated again, Ryan stepped to the gun breach. He unlocked the breach and swung the breech block open. The process was a repeat of the first, cleaning out the hot embers and loading the gun with the two-piece ammunition.

"Up!" He yelled once again.

"Fire!"

"On the way!"

The lanyard was pulled once again, and the cannon was fired. The shell could be tracked by its' distinctive red tracer. All of the crew waited for the shell impact and for the orders from the gun captain. This time, the gunnery officer let loose a more positive reaction.

"Good Hit! Fire for effect." That was the words that the gun crew desired to hear.

As the rest of the crew got picked up the pace, the captain looked back to do a damage assessment once some of the smoke and dust cleared away. What seemed to be a gun turret on the fort on a slightly elevated stone tower that had been there before was now nothing more than scrap metal and stone fragments. His assumption was that while the fort was still under construction like the aerial scout said it was, they had already begun to store their armaments and ammo in there ahead of time. It didn't in the end what happened, what mattered was that the gun turret was gone and that the ad hoc marines could advance on the beach without having to worry about any emplaced weapons firing upon them.

And speaking of marines, they were making their way up the center of the formation like they were ordered to, ending the barrage from the center flank and the flagship as to not cause a friendly fire incident. As the troopships got closer to the shore, the captain looked with his binoculars momentarily to see that the landing boats were being prepared and that soldiers were getting lined up with their armor and weapons ready. These landing boats were nothing special other than traditional rowboats that could raise a canvas cover to keep the rain or harsh sunlight off of them. He turned his attention back to the clifftop fort to reassess the effect that his gun crew was having. So far, they were landing successful hits on and inside the fort, but it was the effectiveness of the shelling that would be called into question and answer that only the marine force would be able to answer when they see it.

One by one, the landing boats with soldiers were lowered into the water from raising and lowering rigging. That would be their order to stop when the landing force arrives onshore as to not shower them with fragments of metal and rock. They continued to bombard the fort as the landing forces continued to be lowered into the water. One by one, the first wave of the attack started rowing towards the shore. Even though they were supposed to keep shelling as to keep the enemy force hidden away in the fort suppressed long enough for the landing force to make landfall, many had ceased their firing. While their gun had accurately been trained on the fort, they couldn't discount the possibility that the soldier would get away unharmed from the shrapnel. Against the overall orders, the gun captain ordered his crew to cease their shooting. The rest of the gun crews on the ship followed suit, as did the other gunboats in the landing fleet.

Ryan was thankful for that, keeling over on the deck in exhaustion from heaving the numerous one-hundred-and-five pound shells from the deck to the breach. He might be muscular in his arms, but he had his limits and had they gone on longer, he might have been unable to get the shells to the breach. He, the gun crew, the rest of the ship, and the rest of the supporting warships had all done their part. It was now time for the infantry to step foot on that foreign soil and accomplish a plan twenty years in the making. He prayed to the entire Buteo pantheon that they would be successful in their efforts and that the fort would fall with ease. Even with evoking their gods, there was no guarantee that any of the shells that they threw at the fort would have been effective at softening up the defenders waiting deep within.

/\/\/\

If there was one thing that Lyle wanted right now, it was his horse. He and his entire cavalry group had been conned into being frontline infantry for the initial attack, completely throwing them into a field of combat that they were not trained for. The best answer that he could come up with was that the horses would most likely be the last thing to be unloaded, and therefore be no use to the coming battle. So instead, they had him and his fellow soldiers as dismounted cavalry. There was nothing that he or his friends could do at that point other than deal with the situation that they were given and go about accomplishing their objectives, which they were briefed on before they were lowered into the water.

Their intel report said that there was nothing on the beach itself that would prevent them from advancing up the slope and onto the plains above the cliffs. Add to the fact that the fort was not even finished yet makes the situation even greater in their favor. The first objective would be to secure the beach for future landing boats, which wouldn't take but a minute or two to do so, maybe no time at all with the lack of defenses Next objective was to take the fort itself, which would take some time assuming that the defenders were all alive and in their shelters. Once they uproot the enemy from the fort or kill them all one, then it was to secure the rear areas where any supplies and housing might be. Once all of that was done, then they had successfully captured the fort and were able to advance forward inland.

He looked around at the rest of his crew. Ian looked at the beach ahead of them with the thousand-yard stare already without seeing any combat. Then again, he wasn't used to these situations – in fact, none of them were – they were all still fresh recruits. Kinn was silently fuming that we were not assigned to the task that he and his group specialized in. It got so annoying that someone even higher rank than him threatened to have him court marshaled for insubordination if he heard him bitching about it any further. Needless to say, that stopped him from being vocal about it, but it was clear for all to see that he was still mad at what he had been assigned to do. Erin all over the boat, trying to comfort those in distress at the given situation. If they were praying, she would join them; if they needed someone there by their side for a moment, she was there. The rest of those in the boat began referring to her light-heartedly as the Mystic. Even though that might not have been her rank, it put a smile on her face nonetheless.

As for Lyle, he was not sure what to feel other than a melancholic state of mind. Sure, their mobility would be hampered as they lacked their horses, but they still had their weapons that they knew how to handle best. But out of all things, he had to call into question the reasoning for him to be there. He might have had a month of total training before getting thrown right into war. Was it a mistake, or was the Royal Army really that desperate already? Of what he was able to hear Bevan say three weeks or so weeks ago, they had one million total soldiers to fight the dragons with. What was it that the upper brass was not telling them? Is it possible that… they were not expected to win? They were kept in the dark about something.

"We're almost there, get ready, men!" someone at the front shouted, breaking Lyle's train of thought. The murmuring of everyone on the boat was silenced, the sound of rowers moving their oars into, and up and out of the water taking their place. This was it, the moment that they had been anxiously waiting for. For them, it would be the first time that they would step foot on an entirely different continent, a wholly foreign land. Now was their time to shine! The generation before them fought the Dark Army and their vile dragons – from their hands, the torch was thrown, and it was time the new generation to lead the way, avenging those that had been slaughtered, maimed, and broken by the dragons.

Time seemed to slow down for them all as the shore of the beach continued to get closer and closer. Lyle closed his eyes and waited, the world around him going quite as the sound of his beating heart overpowered everything else. He couldn't help but think back to his father's last words:

"_I didn't want you to go into the army, but now I realize that I realize here more than ever that I was a fool for trying to discourage you. Go teach those bastards a lesson. Raise our flag up high..."_

They all felt the bottom of the boat scraped against the sandy shore below them and came to a stop. They had made landfall. Lyle's eyes shot open, clutching his lance tight in his hands. The rest soldiers on the boat sat there in silence. The person that yelled to them about being almost there drew his sword from its scabbard, the distinctive sound of the sword being pulled filling everyone's ears. With a mighty shout – or in their case a screech – everyone bailed out of their rowboats and charged up the beach and to the fort. The Buteo Draco war has begun.

/\/\/\

When the bombardment began, Ronan and the other engineering crew bolted from their perch on the wall facing the sea to an area of relative safety. When the first volley of shells landed, the ground shook with a great tremor with the force of an earthquake. They did not want to be on the surface to see what the other ships were capable of doing. When the first shells impacted – one of the towers with impressive accuracy – they found their safe haven, and that was in the underground protected armory. For all that could make it, it was the place where they would ride out the storm and prepare a defense – they might have been a part of the engineering corps, but they were still trained soldiers.

The armory was well-lit thanks to magically powered lanterns that illuminated the underground hideout. Out of the one hundred people on the worksite, the highest number in the shelter was forty-three. Their fates were unknown to those in the armory. It wasn't the only underground place to take shelter though, with at least two suitable locations and three of questionable effectiveness, but protective nonetheless. But it was from the armory that they would organize their counterattack while the bombardments went on. Even in the chaos that was the shelling, they were oddly quiet, everyone too stunned at the events that just occurred. That didn't stop questions being asked left and right.

Even underground, the sounds of explosions above them was more than enough to unnerve them all. It seemed like more than 30 feet underground with a reinforced roof above them did not stem the fear of one the many shells exploding overhead to punch through and kill them all where they stood.

"Ro-Ronan, w-what the hell did they just hit us with?!" The fire dragoness said, holding one paw over an apparent and hard to hid injury her other front leg.

Ronan turned to the fire dragoness, "I'm not sure, Teine," he replied. "I'm more concerned about that injury of yours. Can I take a look?"

"N-no, it's just a little cut," Teine replied, trying to downplay the severity of her injury. Looking down at the floor told a different story, where her left leg was standing in a tiny pool of blood, the warm fluid still flowing down her leg.

"Then I guess that puddle o' blood is the floor bleeding," he replied sardonically. Even if she wanted to avoid the extra attention, there was no doubt that it was a little more severe than just a small cut.

"Fine, take a look at it."

Ronan walked over to Teine and knelt down to be eye level with the injury. Reluctantly, the dragoness removed her other paw from the injury. The good news was that the blood had already begun to clot, which was good considering that they did not have any red spirit gems at hand to heal the injury magically. The bad news was that the injury was a nasty one, with the most perplexing element being that there was a metal fragment embedded in her, cutting through the hardened scales and tough hide into the muscle below. Ronan, with his acute canine sense of smell, caught a faint whiff of something coming from the wound. It wasn't the awful smell of the body, but rather from the fragment itself. While it wasn't a residual smell that he was familiar with, it let out the acrid smell of explosive residue.

"Well, that be odd," he looked up to the dragoness. "You got a metal fragment in your leg, but there ain't a bit of metal used here." He stood up and looked her directly in the eye. With a little bit of reasoning, he came to a grim conclusion. "Whatever the hell they shot us with exploded."

"Are you sure?"

"As best as I can guess. I can smell some kind of residue on the fragment."

That didn't calm the nerves of anyone down there with him, if anything, it only made them more anxious. He in his pirating days had thrown sticks of dynamite or little handheld bombs but never had he in his days shot anything out of a cannon that exploded, at least not like that. Solid shot was the primary shot that was fired as it was the easiest to acquire. But this… this was different. Round shot didn't glow red when it flew through the air, nor did it explode when it hit anything, and it surely didn't fly that far either. The Skavangers and Canine Kingdoms though that they had the best artillery, but it appears that they were wrong.

They prepared themselves for the eventual landing that was to take place. The dragons donned battle armor as well as the other races in the underground armory. The dragons didn't take anything in terms of weapons, they were weapons in their own right, but the rest of the races grabbed the arms brought with them that they were best known for. The cheetahs grabbed their longbows, the Atlawa grabbed their rather unique variant of a spear, and the canine went to grab what was perhaps the most deadly of the weapons in storage: the claymore.

Ronan began to don his set of chainmail armor as the rest were donning theirs. It was somewhat of a tedious process, but when accomplished, there was one last piece: the clan surcoat. Since Ronan began his new life in Warfang, there was really no need to wear the old clan surcoat other than for his own pride and remembrance of where he had come from. However, It could have caused a little more trouble than he expected it to. There were other members of the canine species present with them, including but not limited to a red fox. He, too, had a similar set of armor but wore his old clan surcoat as well.

"So you a MacNelly, ain't ya, lad?" he said to Ronan. All it took was for Ronan to look and see the coat of arms of the fox to understand why he asked. He was from the Mackenzie clan, one that had a harsh rivalry with the MacNelly's. Thankfully for everyone in the shelter, they had already put their differences beside them.

"Yeah. I see you are a Mackenzie…"

"Think that we will do better here than the Forbes' did when the Kennedy's occupied 'em?"

"Seeing as we are here and not doing much to fight back right now, there's not much that I can say," Ronan gazed up at the ceiling momentarily, only to have a shell land above them, knocking dust into his eyes. The fox laughed as he blinked the dust out of his eyes.

"There's forty-three o' us down here, If those not in here were killed out there, then those ironclads have thinned us significantly."

"Well, let's hope that we have enough time to get back out there once this ends. They won't stop until their landing party is ready to charge up the hill."

"How would you know?" the fox asked, tilting his head at Ronan.

"A former Skavenger, lad. If we needed to put boots on the ground, that's the kind of tactic that we used." Ronan flinched as another shell exploded above them. The sound of shells above them was getting louder. Aside from a small layer of dirt for the clifftop grass to grow, there was an almost solid layer of rock above them. The more shells land in the fort courtyard, the more craters that form, and the closer the Hell above them would creep downward. As the bombardment continued, the entire makeshift bunker continued to shake with each nearby explosion.

All that they could do was sit and wait for it to stop, and it eventually did. And when it did, the defenders below emerged from their shelter to see what remained of the fort. For as intense as the bombardment was, a good portion of ground-level fixtures was still intact, but anything that had been built higher might as well not been built at all. They also discovered that they were not the only ones alive on the surface. Others had found shelter and survived. But they found the others, and the nature of the injuries was absolutely horrifying. There was an unfortunate green dragon that had not made it to a shelter. Their body had been mangled so severely that it was impossible to identify who they were or what gender they were. Either metal fragments or the concussive blast from the explosions tore them apart. The only thing that they could identify was what they had eaten for dinner.

Then they heard it down below at the beaches. It the shout, no, a screech of hundreds of soldiers.

/\/\/\

The charge up the hill in plate armor was a much harder task than it looked. Through the bombardment, many shells fell short and made craters that got in their way. Some shell holes were far enough apart to move in between, others were packed closely together to the point where the charging soldiers had moved through them. With that, Kinn finally quit complaining that they were dismounted; to repair the damage to the slope would have taken two weeks and to find another suitable landing spot. If they were going to take part in some action, now would be their time.

When the crested the top of the slope, the fort was right there for the taking, or so they thought. It wasn't long before they saw the defenders. They were armored and ready to fight, as was the Royal Army. They continued to charge forward with determination. This was their moment. A moment of excitement, pride, questioning, fear, and all other mixes of emotions. Then the dragons charged. It was a male ice dragon that leads the counter charge, followed behind by other dragons, as well as the other races that were working on the fort.

Their lines met with a heavy crash.

Lesions learned from the Dark War gave the dragon some experience on how to fight creatures that had superior numbers but were physically inferior. Elemental breaths were great for crowd controlling and thinning, and dealing with individuals would mean reverting back to physical attacks that the dragons excelled at. But applying that tactic against the Buteos didn't work as well as it did with the apes. They couldn't pinpoint precisely what; maybe it was the plate armor that they wore that made the elemental and physical attacks less effective, or perhaps it was that they have more mettle than the apes did. Either way, it was not going to be easy.

For the Buteos, this was a change that their field manuals did not go into much details about. Information about the combat style of Dragons was based on the experience of the Royal Army had against the Dark Army's dragons, which fought much more savagely than these dragons did. These dragons fought in a much more organized and formal manner. It made combat on their part a little bit easier.

The ice dragon that had led the charge had done well. The combination of chilling the metal of the Buteo armor with his elemental magic made it brittle and likely to shatter when struck with enough force. With bare skin or rather feathers exposed, it meant that one good mauling of a swing of a tail blade would bring significant injury to the poor hawk on the receiving end. He found success with other attacks as well. One magic-heavy attack would freeze a Buteo inside out for another dragon to smash, sending frozen chunks of bird in every which direction. As brave as he was, he was not destined to live past this battle. He took repeated injuries that wore him down, slicing on the tendons in his leg would drop the dragon to the ground, opening him up to have a lance impaled into his chest. He perished soon after.

Ian had been lucky to deliver that ice dragon the finishing blow. He was fearful at first, but as the battle raged on, he learned how to survive. He had seen how the other ones had been slain and came to the conclusion that could be chopped up to carelessness and overconfidence. But there were the few where it was just downright bad luck. He was careful and lacked confidence, so by that reasoning, he was going to be alright. He learned that being the hero was the fastest way to die a not-so-heroic death. With that, he learned to be quick on his feet and how to opportunistic, catching the enemy with their guard down or when they were preoccupied. He didn't have many other opportunities to deliver a killing blow like he did before, but if he could get in a hit or two, he would be content with that.

Lyle and Erin had attempted along with others to get around and attack the defenders from the rear. Some advantages could be had if they surrounded the enemy force, such as cutting off their route of retreat and being able to attack them from all sides. If they were able to do that, then they could slaughter the defending force and raise the imperial flag over the fort. But the task was not as easy as they thought it was going to be. Defending on the flanks were two canines, one a red fox and the other a gray wolf by the looks of it, as well as some of the other non-dragon races that were involved with the fort's construction. If they were to encircle the enemy force, then they have to deal with these other creatures first.

Ronan and the fox both fought to the best of their abilities. The claymore felt awkward in his hand as he swung the long blade around, the days of fighting with a pirate's cutlass had ruined his skill with the weapon of his homeland. It took a little time, but it would eventually begin to feel natural in his hands once again. If there was one thing that he had to admire about the hawks that he now faced, it was that their armor was proving to be much sturdier than he thought it was going to be. Plate armor in the Canine Kingdoms was not unheard of but was rare compared to the chainmail that he wore. Their armor was also stronger in terms of resilience than the plate armor back home. Despite all of their efforts, both he the fox, and the others understood that this was a losing battle when they heard another loud screech from the beach. It was either keep fighting and die, or live to fight another day. They, along with a few others, retreated from the battle, leaving the flank and rear exposed for the flankers.

Things for the defenders went downhill from there...

/\/\/\

The battle was finally over after intense fighting on the part of both sides. The initial wave sent by the Buteos had to be reinforced with the second wave being readied when the first wave made landfall. The fort was eventually captured, but more casualties were taken on both sides along the way. There was no flagpole to raise the imperial flag on so that formal action would have to wait until they could put one there. With that done with, it was time to do the after-action report. For the first battle in the war, it really wasn't what the Buteo leadership present was wanting to see.

There were about one hundred defenders of the fort that had to be accounted for, and the after-action report was written up. Out of the one hundred combatants, forty-seven were Dragons, twenty-three Moles, seventeen Canines of various types, eight Cheetahs, and finally five Atlawa. All but seven Dragons were killed in the engagement, eight Moles died, only five Canines survived, and all of the Cheetahs and Atlawa were killed in the engagement. All of that for the loss of three-hundred-and-sixty-four Buteos, as well as many others injured, mostly due to injuries sustained by the Dragon defenders. Those were not the kind of losses that they wanted. The naval gunfire report was even more abysmal.

Out of armed warships available, of which there were twenty-five including the flagship, all of them took part in the shore bombardment. While they were valiant in their efforts, expending two-thousand-eight-hundred-and-ninny-four shells – almost one-hundred shells from each ship on average – around five percent landed _near_ the fort, and less than one percent of that actually hit it. Granted, they had to shoot at long distances to get their shells to loft high enough to get over the cliff to rain down on the fort, but the admiralty would not be pleased with that number, nor would the ordinance department that would have to order more. That was not to say that their efforts were in vain. They did keep the defenders suppressed, allowing for the soldiers in their landing boats to reach the shore without encountering any resistance.

As for the retreating force, well, they had a long way to go, and with the dismounted cavalry's horses were still on the transport ships awaiting a boat ride over to the shore, there was no way to chase them down effectively. And for the dragons that could fly, well, there was no way that they could doff their armor in a timely manner to catch them, and there was no telling how far they could with the injuries that they had. That did not matter at the moment. The sun was setting, and there wasn't time to get the rest of the regiment off the boats and to land before dark. Those that were on the ships would have to say there for another night, and those that had made landfall would have to stay on land and set up a camp or live the somewhat livable ruins of the fort. With that, they set to work looking through the fort to see if it was habitable and if there was a piece of ground that did not have a crater so that they could set up tents if needed.

Inspection of the fort showed that many of the above-ground living quarters had been damaged by the shells that had landed accurately. Still, with some additional blankets, it wouldn't be too bad – some bunk-style beds were there, and giant cushions were strewn about on the floor. Beggars can't be choosers, and they took what available bedding there was. Fortunately, there was just enough for everyone in multiple people slept on the oversized cushions. Once that situation was settled, it was time for dinner.

Some of them ate rations that were delivered from the transport ships anchored offshore, but some were more interested in raiding the cellars of any available foodstuffs, which they ate with many thanks in part to their enemies, leaving so much fresh and savory meats stocked up. While they lost plenty of soldiers, it was their first battle in a war against the dragon menace, and couldn't be too hard on themselves for lack of experience. They would go to bed soon after, getting a well-needed rest for the next day.

As for those that had retreated from the battle to fight another day, there was a long way for them to go for the closest inhabited area. The dragons that had flown out of harm's way were too exhausted or were in too much pain from the injuries to carry on flying and had to land. At least they were in the same boat as the species that were confined to walking on land. There was a long way to go before they met back up with civilization, and even longer for the Dragon Army to formulate and carry out a response.

Until then, nothing was keeping the Buteos from advancing on the large swathes of the tall plains that lie to the south.

/\/\/\

News of the multiple attacks across the realms came in like a flood during a thunderstorm, with reports stating that there was still more attacks happening at this instant. Needless to say, the panic in the aftermath caused further damages as people acting irrationally took desperate measures to ensure their safety and survival, even if it meant the detriment of others. Food stores were robbed, banks were pillaged, and weapons from armories were absconded with. While the incident reports varied in terms of their details, there was one aspect that remained the same: the attacks were conducted by a race of hawks. The Guardians knew that the invasion by the Buteos was coming, but they were not expecting them to arrive here like they did. It couldn't be possible to have their entire army here already. Did those avians not know that winter was only one month away?

The Guardians had to call an emergency meeting with the leadership of the Dragon Army to discuss the matter. Perhaps this was the final push that the leadership needed to get the full might of the Dragon Army into a full mobilization. That didn't stop the leadership from being as hard-headed as they were before. Even with the insight of Ignitus, they were still reluctant to increase the number of troops mobilized.

Firdin was the High General of the Dragon Army, a soldier who had worked his way up through the ranks to get to the position that he now held. Unable to make it to the first gathering due to sickness, he sent a representative in his place, but now was able to attend the crucial meeting. His red scales might be able to take intense heat, but he was not expecting to be flamed like this. The decision to perform a limited mobilization was a very unpopular move among the ranks of the Dragon Army, both for the soldiers who were skeptical that there was a threat at all, and those that were less skeptical and did not want to fight a prolonged war against a new enemy for fear of what it could become.

It was evident, however, that there was a threat, but with the nature of the attacks, it was hard to fully discern the details only a day after these events had occurred. They all deliberated over the actions that needed to be taken in response to the raiding operations. Needless to say, parliamentary procure was something that was quickly done away with as emotions flared.

"We need a full mobilization at this instance!" one the lower-ranking generals yelled out, not doing anything to control his emotional expressions. This one, an earth dragon, had discovered that in one of the Buteo raids that his mate had been in the crossfire, sustaining life-threatening, but easily treatable injuries thanks to the healing properties of red spirit gems. For him, this was personal.

"We need to keep the mobilization as it currently is and wait until further information becomes available. If we act too rash, we will cause massive panic," another dragon shouted. This one knew what she was talking about because she had seen the effects of panic first had when it came to emergency management. With the news of a looming disaster hits, people will begin to act irrationally, sometimes causing a bigger issue than the disaster itself. It also would allow them to gather more information on their adversary, which would help them organize more effective operations.

"What of our allies? Have the other species out there made any decisions yet?" Another great question that they did not know the answer to at the moment. As it stood, there were only members of the dragon leadership – military and civilian – present at this emergency meeting. It was kind of a dumb question to ask since envoys from the other species had been sent to the capital of the Realms for each group's stance on the issue, but it was a question nonetheless an important one.

This sort of behavior escalated further until a small break had to be called to ease the tensions that were building in the room. It gave everyone time for everyone to process all of the information that had been presented, as well as allow a little time for the newer information to become a bit more organized in terms of its delivery. Although for Spyro, this time was spent more in denial than anything else.

As a prominent figure in the Dragon Realms, it was usually customary for him to attend particular gatherings when it came to public affairs. He was not present for the first meeting, where the limited mobilization was ordered for the sake of him not going over the edge with all of the stressors on him. This time, there was no getting out of it, no matter, something that displeased the Guardians to the highest degree. They had tried to keep the raw information from getting to him, preferring to sugarcoat it as best as they could, but the cat was out of the bag, and there was nothing that could be done to put the cat back in.

'_They wanted me to be in the dark, didn't they?"_ the purple dragon thought to himself as he walked through the hallways of the temple, lazily walking throughout all of the winding corridors on the various floors. He was a melting pot of emotional uncertainty, with pessimistic thoughts taking the forefront of his mind. _'We finally got things back together again, now it's all going to be for nothing as it will all be torn apart again._'

Occasionally he would cross paths with other dragons, each of them greeting him with a respectful nod, which he would reply back, in turn, doing his best to suppress the feeling that he was experiencing. His guise was working out so far, but the more he walked, the sourer he got, and the sourer he got, the harder it was to hide it. And it would take a pink dragon to be the one to notice.

Ember had wandered her way into the temple, somehow making it past the guards. Spyro knew that she had a big crush on him, and was willing to bet that she was there to get closer to him. It was another thing to further frustrate the purple drake.

"What are you doing here, Ember? Classes aren't in session right now, and administrative things are going on that aren't open to the public."

"Here to return some borrowed items." There was a satchel slung around her back. She slid the bag off and pulled from it three books from it to show that she was genuine. "Volteer opened up his study for students to borrow materials, kind of like a library." She slid the books gently across the floor. Titles like "A Treatise of Fire Elementalism," "Basic to Advance Fire magic," and "Fire breath for dummies" gave off the impression of two things: either she had a lot to catch up on, or she was extra studious. Being that it was Ember, it was had to tell just exactly what that would be. Perhaps being frozen in place was more than enough encouragement for her.

"Fine, I'll walk you there."

"Wait, does this mean–"

"No, no, it does not. Just because she is not here does not mean that you can try and take her place." He was intentionally vague about the details of her departure, but it seems that Ember was able to figure that Cynder had been gone for a while.

"It was worth a shot," Ember replied in a snarky tone, "Let's walk then."

The books were put back into her satchel, and she slung it back over her back. Both of them, for the time being, we're finally getting along. They made their way through the halls and rooms, Spyro taking care not to have her see that it was a meeting between civilian and military leadership. Granted, the public knew that_ something_ had happened, but if they learned about the meeting, the rumors of another costly and long-lasting war would run rampant, and the panic that would follow would cause many more problems for the dragons than it would their adversaries.

"So, what's got you in such a foul mood, purple boy?" Ember said in a strange mix of humor and seriousness. "You are not your usual self."

"What makes you think that I'm not like this? I could be wearing a mask in public for all you know."

"It's your vibe. You're always so positive and cherry, but now you are acting like someone dropped an open dumpster onto you."

"Even if I could tell you, I'm not going to."

"That's fair. Gotta keep all that government stuff a tip-top secret, huh?"

"It's none of your business to know right now, Ember. Now please drop the subject; otherwise, I might have to freeze your maw shut." The last part was more of a joke than an actual threat, but being frozen in place was quite the experience, so having her mouth frozen shut was something that she was most certainly looking forward to.

"There's just a lot of things going on right now that I don't want to talk about, that's it."

"Stressed?"

"A little, having to juggle everything takes its toll." Truth be told, Spyro didn't have all that much to do at all. He silently prayed that his alibi would work and that Ember would quit pressing the issue. They were almost to Volteer's study. She wouldn't be pestering him much longer.

"That must be tough. I though shadowing an apothecary was tough work."

"You are working in the medical field?" Spyro was genuinely shocked by this. Out of all the people who would make medicine, Ember never crossed his mind.

"It's been something that I have been interested in since my childhood. It's how medicine can take a deathly ill person and bring them back to health in days; my mother went through something like that when I was a small child."

"Huh, Interesting choice."

"Right? With a lot more other species coming to Warfang, it makes it a field that needs more attention. Other species can't use red gems like we can if we want to get better, so they either have to slog through the sickness, seek treatment, or die. I think that we can better in that way; provide medicine to those that need it. There is plenty of remote villages that don't have access to medicine, so maybe when things settle down more, we might be able to do some specitarian work and help these places."

"Huh, I never thought of it that way. And you're right, there are a lot of places out there that don't have access to these things. I don't suppose that you've been to Tall Plains yet, but they are as remote and isolationist as can be. Out there, they don't have easy access to care like we do."

"I can't say I have been out there, but I see your point."

They turned down another hallway. At the end of it was Volteer's study. About twenty feet from the door, Ember brought up a question that Spyro was not expecting to be asked.

"Have you heard anything about Cynder? She's been gone for a while now, hasn't she?"

Spyro could not tell if she was genuine with her question or not. That alone was enough to strike a nerve with him. "No, I have not! Now quit bringing it up," Spyro said with a sharpened and slightly altered voice, the sound echoing in the stone corridor. Ember froze in place, her tail becoming stiff with fear. He felt _that_ presence again creeping on him, one that would only lead to bad things if he let that feeling consume him. After a tense moment, Spyro let out a long-winded sigh.

"I'm sorry, Ember. I didn't mean to snap at you like that, but you are really pushing me to my limit."

"O-okay," she replied, her voice quivering as she did so. They were finally there. Funnily enough, there was a little wooden box with "Book Return" written on the front. Spyro had taken her claims with a grain of salt, but it appears that she was indeed telling the truth. The books were retrieved from the bag and slid through the slot for them to go through, where on the inside, a thud was heard. It seems like she was not the only one to have items to return.

"Well, I got to get going. Marne let me off to return these. If it take any longer, she'll kill me."

"Oh, alright, I guess I'll see you around sometime or other."

"See you," Ember said sweetly, blowing a little kiss as she left.

Spyro rolled his eyes. When will she give up already?

When it was all said and done, he returned to the meeting room where the most prestigious dragons in the realms sat. This session was to go quicker than expected, as, despite the break being declared, plenty of like-minded people gathered together to discuss the topic on their own time. In fact, they were ready to submit their proposal in response to the Buteo's raiding attacks. The proper procedures were restored, and a water dragon proposed a response.

"After some careful consideration, I forward the motion that increased mobilization from twenty-five to fifty percent army capacity." It was a simple proposal, and everyone in the room for once remained quiet for long enough to consider the option. It is of its' very nature was a compromise that was meant to appeal to both factions forming in the room: the believers in the threat that wanted full mobilization and those that remained skeptical and wanted to stay at the state that it was until further information was gathered. Eventually, both sides started a surprisingly civil discussion compared to those that were had before.

After several minutes of this civility, everyone was content with the proposal. All that waited now was Firdin's approval for it to happen. They all turned towards the general, waiting for his decision. With all eyes on him, he gave his judgment.

"I approve."

That was all that was needed. The meeting was soon adjourned afterward, and all attendants were dismissed, many of whom either flew of walked back to their jobs or back home.

For Spyro, though, there was nowhere to go. This was his home, and he was more than irritated that the guardians, dragons who he essentially grew up with, had intentionally kept information from him for seemingly no reason whatsoever. He would encounter them returning to his room, where they would try to strike up a friendly conversation, only to be met with his silence. Both he and the Guardians knew that the best thing for them at the moment was some alone time. Time for the Guardians to reflect on the decision and how withholding information backfired on them, and time for the purple dragon to vent and fume his frustrations without lashing out on those that he truly cared about.

* * *

Bradan made his annual trek through the woods to the secluded treetop hill again, a habit that, while done to be inconspicuous, was leaving behind a conspicuous foot trail. Even more visible would be the many gem clusters that had generated in and around the hill. That was an easy fix; toting all of them back to the palace lab and explaining how he got them to the rest of the personnel was not. If a game warden were to find him in there, he would surely be detained, no questions asked. He didn't overthink it as it really wouldn't matter to him if he were arrested or not – he had some connections that would make it easier on him.

And those connections helped him better understand what was needed for that unique spruce tree to live. The forester, whom he had been friends with for numerous years, went with him to the secluded hilltop and gave an in-depth, albeit unofficial, assessment. The site was perfect for that species of spruce to grow, given that it remained undisturbed by anything that might cause harm to it. To Bradan, that was good news. As long as he was able to continue to look after the tree, it would be safe, and so would Cynder. With that all out of the way, Bradan thanked him and politely shooed the forester away. The forester didn't question it vocally but came under the assumption that the religiously secretive man was more a follower of Druidism rather than the Polytheism that was common throughout the kingdom.

With that done and out of the way, Bradan began another one of his one-way conversations with Cynder. He plopped down onto the ground, crossed his legs, and let his wings relax. The therapeutic conversations were relaxing to him physically as they were mentally.

"Is it odd how I, a practitioner of magic, had to drink a potion that was derived from a dragon's spirit gems? Its something that has bemused me for decades now, how we Buteos have no means of instantaneous magic casting, but gain it as soon a down a pint of green liquid? Or how now we might be able to heal our injuries with the red gems like you can? I think that I have an answer to that very question, or at least an educated guess.

It's not the gems themselves that _have_ these mystical powers, but they _contain_ the mystical powers. I say this because were able to reproduce the green gem potion with a siphon-style tea brewer rather than ruin a patch of alcohol, which allows us to see just exactly what is happening as we look through the glass. As we get the water – and a lot of water for that matter – up to a roaring boil, the water gets siphoned up and is allowed to interact with the spirit gems. As we observed the interaction, the water that was siphoned up started to gain a green color, but the gems themselves began to lose their brightness. When it was all said and done, about thirty or so minutes, we had ourselves the first green gem potion in twenty years. We first had a test subject try it to see if it might cause any adverse reactions, and to our luck, it did not. I drank one as well to see if it was just as potent as the first one I ever drank was. It was a much weaker effect, but it gave me that same feeling that I felt twenty years ago, albeit at a lesser intensity. The rest was given to the King and Queen as a gift.

"We did the same with the red, blue, and purple gems. When we got to the blue gems, it became clear now why the Dark Army's dragons did a fine job of getting every last shard: empowerment. To think, us magic practitioners had to train ourselves for twenty years to get to where we are, and we could have done the same thing in a shorter amount of time had we access to them. But the purple ones, that remains a mystery to us still. We had multiple rounds of the purple gems, but it seems that nothing is happening at all. Perhaps there is something deeper that we do not yet understand how those in particular operate."

He reclined back until he was lying flat on the ground, looking up at the evening sky, the brightest of stars beginning to shine through.

"I know you probably want to hear about the invasion, as that pertains most to you. They should be making their landing any day now. The usual sailing trip takes about three or four weeks to get from here to over there, and it's been about three weeks now. Soon, Quillian steel will be soaked in dragonic blood – well, that is, if the army can get their heads out of their asses and get with the times."

Bradan's voice shifted, revealing hidden and pent up frustration.

"Look at what the navy did: they took every advantage of every technological advantage that they could, even speeding up development in certain fields. The navy has all-metal warships with advanced cannons. Yet, the only thing that the army has adopted is the cannon technology – actually stealing naval cannons to do so – and left the grunts with antiquated weapons. Military fathers could give their swords, spears, and bows to their sons, and I can guarantee you that they would still be used. I don't think the top brass understands that dragons are much more physically imposing and durable than the apes ever were. They never had to fight one of you. But it takes a tragedy to initiate some change."

"It's honestly idiotic. They say that it's because a bullet from a gun cannot do a much damage as a stab from a sword or spear. Well, I have shot one of these before on a hunting trip with friends, and the bullet could go _right through_ a deer at its thinnest, and get burred very deeply at its thickest. Even faced with that evidence, the old-timers would say 'Oh, but that's too new of a contraption to use,' or 'But it's too slow to reload.' Oh well, of course, it is – breach loading works well with the naval cannons, but it hasn't yet been optimized from small-arms yet. I would give it a year before they start becoming commonplace.

"But now I have a new problem to worry about. If everyone can keep tightly beaked about the generation of gems, then I don't have to worry about it as much as currently am, but that's not how the world works. If the word got leaked to the military that we can produce more magically gifted soldiers, then they will have their eyes on me wanting to produce more potions. See, I would be happy to make red potions, as that has a single purpose: to heal. Magic is a double-edged sword. It can be used for good or evil, and I highly doubt that they are going to be using magic for buteoitarian purposes. And I don't want to know what kind of monster they would make with a blue potion, or what even would happen with the purple potion."

The Buteo sat up off the ground, stretching his arms out, popping as many joints as he could.

"I've not got much else to say. I know you probably want to hear how your species is doing and if they are winning or if they are loosing. When I have more, I will give it to you. Unless you want to hear more personal matters going on, which I guess I could talk about too, but there is no way for you to tell me if you want to hear them or otherwise. I might do that next time if I got anything. Until then, I bid you farewell."

Bradan lifted himself off of the ground and made his way back onto his trail and back to the palace where he would continue his work. He couldn't help but feel anxious about that. He had promised that he and his team would figure out life's biggest secrets, to become one step close to the divine with his work in metaphysics. After the accidental discovery of soul manipulation, they had not made any new discoveries since. Maybe this was as far as the study would go. Or maybe there was a reason why this ancient practice had never gone further than where it was.

/\/\/\

After nearly a month being a tree-dragon, Cynder could say that she had finally got adjusted to the life that she now was living, or doing her best to give that impression. She and the other Dryads really didn't see eye to eye when it came to her status of being stuck to the evergreen. She saw it as a hindrance and wanted to be released from this natural prison and return to the Dragon Realms as soon as dragonly possible. The Dryads didn't understand why she wanted to leave so badly, and they most likely never would. Mortal affairs didn't matter much to them unless it was like the loss of their forests. That might be something that she had to work on.

Life wasn't nearly as dull as it was before thanks to the new friendship between her and Astris, as well as the other dryads. Iveyci and Frasia were the ones that she could go to hold a decent grown-up conversation, as well as for answers to any questions that she might have had. Astris was the one that always wanted to play with her, and Cynder was more than welcome to do so, seeing as how there was nothing better to do. There were other Dryads, but it was only those three that visited her regularly. It was helpful company to have.

It was Astris, though that Cynder came to appreciate the most. No matter how negative things were, the young spirit would continue to carry on with her childlike innocents. The two had grown close together. It was every other night that Cynder's past would come to haunt her in her sleep, something that she wasn't all that grateful for. When she would be awoken by these malicious dreams, she would find the little green spirit snuggled up next to her, curled up in blissful comfort. She didn't know if it was because of their friendship, or if it that the spirit sensed that the dragon was in turmoil. Astris wouldn't be there in the morning, and whenever Cynder brought it up, she firmly and confidently denied it. She might be able to convince everyone else, but Cynder was not one of those.

Today, or rather tonight, was a hard night for Cynder. Bradan had come to her earlier in the day and told her about the invasion force and how it should be arriving any day now. That only sought to unnerve the already anxious dragon further. Although she enjoyed the company that she was given, she still desired to go back home to help her fellow dragons. But since she couldn't, all that she could do was swish her tail in nervousness. A conversation right now would help, and she sought out the one person that she could talk to: Iveyci.

"Iveyci, can you hear me?" She called out, standing at the edge of her limits facing the woods. Mystically, the spirit materialized and approached the dragon, the Dryad taking the form of a dragon once again.

"Yes. Do you need anything."

"I have some questions to ask. Is Bradan telling the truth, or is he stringing me along by telling me what all that he does?"

"We can sense no malicious intent in him, Cynder. Everything that he has told you so far is the truth. If there was, I would send someone to look over him on your behalf if need be."

It was an uncomfortable feeling knowing that the Buteos had now access to the powers of the various spirit gems. It did bring her a sense of relief that they were ignorant of the purple gems and that they were used to build up power for furies. What a Buteo fury might look like was something that she did not want to know about. If Bradan could, by normal power alone, send her through a stoutly constructed hardwood floor twice, then there was no telling what he could have done with a fury attack. Or was that in of itself a fury? She could never know

"Even that "small-arm" thing he was talking about?"

"We don't like to talk about that," Iveyci said grimly, a scowl forming on her face. "It is real, and it is a vile thing. Us Dryads have seen many woodland creatures fall victim to its destructive ways. Cast metal projectiles being thrown at speeds so fast that not even the eye can see it, and causing egregious injuries to those in its path. Not to mention that it spits fire and smoke when used, something that us older ones are not too afraid of, but your little friend is especially vulnerable to."

Cynder panned her head around, looking to see if Astris had materialized and had been snooping on their conversation. Thankfully, she wasn't. The spirit already told Cynder off on how her name was evil – a little bit of salt in an old wound – and that she didn't like what it symbolized. The last thing that Cynder wanted was for the nature spirit to fret over something highly unlikely to occur here in this section of woods. The park rangers would make sure that it wouldn't happen. Bradan wouldn't let it happen if it risked her safety.

"Oh, well, I'm sorry to hear that."

"If you were to ask an animal's spirit, then you would get mixed messages." There were animal spirits too? "The prey animals love it when the predators are killed, but the predators do not like it because their food is taken away. We despise it in general for what it represents: a painful death." Painful death… that was something that she knew all too well. It was bringing back suppressed memories that she had done an excellent job of keeping them put away. Cynder was quick to change the subject.

"There are more questions than I have to ask if you don't mind."

"Not at all."

Both entities sat down on their haunches facing each other in the soft grass.

"Tell me, what other thing is there that I – us mortals don't know about that you do? There is clearly so much more to this world than we know of, and I'm kind of wondering what all is hiding just beyond what we mortals are capable of seeing."

"Well, Cynder, that is a long story. I assume that it's all of the spiritual things, yes?" the dragon nodded her head. "It all starts with the with The Great Spirit."

Cynder watched in awe as the spirit spoke. "The Great Spirit? Is that like your king? O-or a God?" She stammered, trying to properly articulate her question. It sounded amazing: a whole other world existing alongside her own, an invisible plane of spiritual existence. She wondered if this is what it was like for the Ancestors. Did they live in a realm like this? She ceased her thoughts as she waited for a reply.

"Not necessarily. The great spirit is the universal entity, one that permeates throughout the cosmos. To every star, world, and astronomical body. Long ago, beyond the comprehension of time, it was the only entity, forever alone. There was nothing but it, and only it's existence. To solve its' loneliness, it gave birth to the cosmos."

Cynder nodded. Astronomy was a thing in Warfang, so they had a bit of knowledge on the cosmos, but never how exactly they were thought to have formed. This was an interesting take. "So, a spirit like you made the stars? And the planets? Does that mean that stars and planets have spirits like you too?"

"Very observant. When the Great Spirit created the cosmos, it created other spirits with it too. The stars were each their own; the plants were each their own. You may have heard the name "Mother Earth" or "Mother Nature" before being used to describe the world; that is this planet's spirit."

Cynder swept her tail through the grass absentmindedly, tapping her claws on the ground as she thought hard about this. "So, this whole planet has one spirit of its own... plus all of you?" She tilted her head. "So, where is she? How can we find 'Mother Earth'? Can she appear anywhere, or not at all?"

"Indeed. She gives us the gift of life; it is from her bosom that the elements of life wrought forth. And as for living things, we all have spirits too, or what you might call a Soul. Some might say that we all are Mother Earth in that regard" Iveyci looked up towards the stars above, ironic considering that she was talking about the earth below them. "She doesn't often show herself to us, more watching on from a distance, proud of her creations. Though I have heard stories of creatures fortunate enough to experience her face to face, these are ancient stories from millennia ago."

It was then that Cynder thought of something else, something rather concerning. "What about when the world fractured? Did it hurt her? Did it hurt a lot of other spirits? And what happens to them after they're gone?"

"Her silence was broken by painful cries that could be heard by all. Many spirits were lost: we tree spirits, those of water, the mountain spirits, and their brethren were all effected. They all ceased to exist after that, never to be heard from again," Iveyci said with a grim and serious voice. She waited to see Cynder's priceless reaction. "I was jesting," Iveyci said while letting out a small giggle. "There are many different interpretations of what happens, but we aren't sure where they go to be completely honest with you." It didn't seem like she was joking.

Cynder sat there for a moment of awkward silence before giving Iceyci a nervous laugh. "So... What else can you tell me about the spirits and such?" She was itching to get off the topic of the fracture and regretted bringing it up.

"To get more local on the Cosmic scale, as I mentioned before, even the celestial moons have spirits. And each one has an important significance to us and to other nature spirits. The green one is Veriti and symbolizes life, and the red one, Ferrum, symbolizes death, the color red representing fire. When Ferrum eclipses Veriti, it is symbolic of the destruction of life, leaving the land below cloaked in shadows and metaphorical ashes. But when Veriti returns, it is symbolic of life's return, and the land will light up the woodlands and the creatures that inhabit them. It's the cycle of life and death."

"Oh, wow... We dragons have other names for the moons. The green moon is Zella, and the red is Adrano. We call the eclipse the Night of Eternal Darkness. It used to have a very dark meaning... One I was involved in in the past. But not anymore. I think I like your meaning a lot better, honestly." She gave the dryad a respectful smile.

Iveyci smiled back but tilted her head slightly. "Night of Eternal Darkness... You might have to tell me about that sometime." Cynder's ears were not the only ones to hear Iveyci's voice. A little spirit curious as ever crept slowly towards the two. "Indeed, the cycle of birth, death, and rebirth is very sacred to us. Nature will find a way; a volcanic wasteland will return to the forest with time."

Cynder wasn't easy to sneak upon. Though her eyes remained on Iveyci, she noticed the small spirit in her peripheral vision. "Astris, what are you up to?" She asked after Iveyci had finished speaking. As little as she enjoyed being interrupted, she enjoyed talking about her past much less and hoped the younger spirit approaching would distract them both a bit from the current topic.

"Why is the lunar eclipses so bad for you dragons?"

Cynder sighed. "The Night of Eternal Darkness... When the eclipse shrouds the Well of Souls in shadow and allows corrupted spirits to escape into our realm. This is how Malefor, the Dark Master, escaped from his imprisonment. And I was partially responsible as well for opening the portal in Convexity to begin his release." Her claws dug into the ground where she fixated her eyes, not daring to look at Iveyci out of shame.

"Conve-Conv- ... exity?" It seems that Astris wasn't quite old enough yet to be able to fluently pronounce the complex word. "What's that? And what's a well of souls?"

"Well... It's a, well... _Well."_ Cynder said, trying to nudge away the discomfort of the topic to explain. "But instead of water, it's spirits, or in our case souls. Many many souls, dark, corrupted, lost. Trying to return to our land. And Convexity is much like a plane outside of our own, like this one, but full of floating islands and cosmic creatures. It's... Actually quite beautiful. But it's hard to explain. And it can only be reached through a portal by those born in the Year of the Dragon, like me."

"I wish I could see that, that Exity place. But that Well, can it be stopped? Kind of like filling it in or blocking it?"

Cynder chuckled and shook her head. "It doesn't quite work like that. But it's not really... active anymore? Not since the mountain caved in. It just brings back bad memories." She had to admit she honestly didn't mind Astris as much as before. In fact, it was nice to share her story and receive more curiosity in return than accusing and fearful stares. It was therapeutic in a way.

"So maybe now it won't be so bad when it happens again." The Dryad smiled up at Cynder. She propped one paw under her chin and took a long moment to think. There was something more that she wanted to ask. "Since the lunar eclipses are seen as bad to you but good to us, what do you dragons believe in?"

Cynder paused in thought, trying to come up with a reply. "Well, I suppose it depends on what you mean. Religiously, scientifically... But I guess our baseline beliefs revolve around our ancestors. The idea that not only do they live on through the Earth but literally in another plane of existence as well. Like a heaven, sort of. As far as deities go, we don't really have any, but we do have the Chronicler."

Both Iveyci and Astris were intrigued by this revelation. Even Frasia materialized away after hearing that. They were under the impression that all sentient species believed in _something,_ but ancestor worships was something that they have yet to encounter yet as far as belief systems go. "So what does this chron-chron... Icler do? Is it like Mother Earth in that it watches over us?" For the young spirit to not know anything, it was a very close guess.

A smile spread across Cynder's face, and she extended her wings a bit, feigning surprise as she exclaimed, "That's it!" She had to give the little dryad some credit; she caught on well. "He watches over and records the events of the Era. He can also enter dreams and communicate with people. He told me about the war in mine – it's how I knew to come."

"Did he know that you would be here. Like, _here_ here? You don't really like being here, so why would he lead you here only for you to get stuck? Surely he would have known better, right?"

Cynder gave a quick shake of her head. "No! No, no, not at all! He can't see _everything_ everything, like little details, just big things like the war itself. And trust me, he didn't lead me here. He told me the war couldn't be prevented, but..." she trailed off, casting her gaze away from the two spirits in shame. "I, uh, I didn't listen. I was stubborn. Aaand now I'm here."

"So... like a fortune teller." One could make that argument, although he does much more than that. "What do you think of Traeblesh since you are here?"

Cynder decided to ignore the fortune teller comment, finding the new direction of the conversation to be much more interesting. "Well, hostility aside, it's beautiful. And their city is quite advanced, I'll say that much. The way I see it, if I were them and we dragons really caused such an industrial boom, I'd just let bygones be bygones. Why send more of your own kind out to die fighting a force that was against the same foe that you were when you could all just enjoy the advancements? Does revenge _really_ mean more to them than keeping their families and friends safe? The ones that attacked them aren't even alive anymore, so even if they kill us all, they still won't get the revenge they were hoping for." She snorted, a tiny puff of shadowy smoke exiting her nostrils. The whole idea sounded frivolous and careless to her, and she couldn't help straying from the topic to rant a bit

"If you don't mind me interrupting, I might have an answer to your question," Iveyci quickly said, cutting off any chance for Astris to make another comment or question, "it is because they believe that this war will guarantee their safety."

"Then they're fools! I tried to tell them! We- we didn't even know they existed until they started planning this war! All they had to do was..." Cynder huffed, standing up and pacing in circles around her tree. "Everyone _was_ safe! And now citizens of every race, from the Realms and Traeblesh, will die."

Iveyci was unfazed by Cynder's anger. She could empathize with her, sure, but the looming Buteo-Draco war was not a concern to her or the other Dryads in the protected forest. She remained sitting where she was and waited for Cynder to face her once again. Her voice was stern and serious, ready to give her a long-winded answer.

"Put your paws into their footprints for a moment. You are a mother to two, three-year-old twins. Suddenly, your entire town in blazes and in the heat of the moment, and you have lost track of the children. You see that it is a dragon was responsible and will see something that will scar you for the rest of your life: Both children are being eaten alive, one torn to shred, and the other swallowed whole. Imagine that you are a proud and professional soldier with years of training being thrust into battle against something that you have never been taught to fight against. Your entire company, all but you, is made quick work of with only shallow cuts on the beast to show your work. To rub salt into the wound, the dragon heals the injury at a nearby cluster of red spirit gems. Imagine that you are in a position of power, knowing that if they so want to, a colony of dragons can quickly come and conquer the lands under your control without much that can be done to stop it, and that one could promptly assassinate both you and the king. You have to understand, Cynder, the Buteos see your species as _monsters_, as a threat to every man, woman, and child.

"The Buteos see themselves as inferiors to something that is far greater than they could ever be, that is why they are doing what they are doing.

"The war? The governance will tell you day in and out that it is for revenge, and so will the populace. But the governance is telling you a lie. Although Bevan had been worried sick about the repercussion of it, the reason why in his heart, as well as in the hearts of everyone that took part in orchestrating this conflict, believes that if are not Dragons are fought back against, then they will become too powerful and nothing will stop them from dominating the entire world. The Industrial advances? All of it was not because the war against the Dark Army had spurred the need for industry, no, it was to give as many advantages to the Buteos a possible because they know that there is no way a Buteo will ever be able to defeat a dragon in a physically; ten or more couldn't beat one in a physically. And the Magic? Because it is the greatest equalizer that they have against your species. They feel like they are backed into a corner with no escape, and the only solution to the problem is to fight it. The leadership sees the losses as acceptable if it means that there will be safety and security for centuries to come."

Cynder growled at the thought. "Ignorance!" She shouted. "You tell me to imagine being a mother to children? I've never had a mother, and I never got to be a child. I could never understand. Because of the same force that took me as an egg. Life and death happen. Bad people do bad things. But to deem an entire species as animals, monsters, ones that can speak like you and build things like you... Ones on your level of sentience. I fought against the same army they did. _I_ killed the ringleader! If it weren't for _me_ and dragons as a whole, they wouldn't have anything to fight for because they'd all be dead. The very ground we stand on would have been obliterated. _Dragons_ weren't the cause of their issue. A dragon was. And that dragon. Is dead. Their fear? Their ignorance? Their _incompetence?_ It is not an excuse for their _racism_, and when I get out of here, I- _I-"_ she stopped. Truth be told, she didn't know what she would do. She was angry at the Buteos, and she didn't want them to suffer anymore; _they_ didn't want to suffer anymore, and yet here they were... Bringing more hardship upon themselves out of prejudice. She wondered if she even should feel sorry for them. All she knew was that she wanted peace, and she'd do anything in her power to restore it. She sighed and continued. "Look... I just don't want any more wars. Any more fighting. Things should be peaceful, and they would have been had they just listened to me. _Oh, but the declaration has already been signed-_ screw their declaration! A piece of paper has no more permanence than their own lives – lives they're willing to give up on the least noble cause I've ever heard of." She sat down in front of the tree, facing the spirits in dead silence. She had nothing more to say.

Fine, fine," Iveyci said, raising her paws in the air in defeat, "I understand your feelings, but I also understand theirs. I will not press the issue further, maybe for another time."

"I knew I shouldn't have said anything..." Astris said with a large tinge of sadness in her voice, her complexion changing from her usual cheery self to a distressed one.

Cynder gave the young dryad an apologetic look. "Oh, Astris... It's okay. I'm not mad at you at all. I'm just really stressed, that's all."

"Oh, okay." Her demeanor improved a bit. "If it makes you feel better, I have a surprise for you." Astris held a paw out and focused...

Cynder's brows raised up in surprise and intrigue, curious what Astris might have to show her. She had assumed that she was too young and energetic to use any sort of magic, but then, she still didn't really know much about Dryads.

As the spirit focused, particles of visible energy began to fill the air around them, something that in the twilight hours of the night added an almost indescribable feeling of wonder and intrigue to the forest's atmosphere, something that felt familiar but foreign at the same time — mysterious. There on the ground in between them, a transparent, green-glowing sprout emerged slowly, continuing to grow until its growth ended with the blooming of a purple anemone. The flower, like the stem, glowed purple like all other parts, respectively. Upon completion, the glowing energy that surrounded them faded away, leaving the dragon, the nature spirit, and the faux flower between them. "Ta-dah!" Her little voice said, slightly quivering. "I've been trying that for weeks. I can't believe that worked this time."

Absolutely mystified was the only way Cynder could describe what she felt. She'd seen crystals regenerate and grow out of the Earth, harnessed the power of multiple elements, and been visited in her dreams - and even in life - by the spirits of the ancestors, but she had never seen anything as magical as this. It had no purpose that she could determine, no use, it was simply a flower. It was a lovely little flower, and Astris had created it out of nothing. "It's beautiful, Astris... Thank you." She laid down beside the flower and watched it closely. As a matter of fact, she hadn't taken her eyes off of it since it appeared.

* * *

The day that Ignitus dreaded finally arrived like the in-laws at his doorstep. Both unfortunate for him and his mental health, it was time to start updating the books. Book one-off of the stack he willed forth had been seated on a lectern for a while, patiently waiting for a quill to fill its pages. Now it was time to begin filling those pages.

Ingitus stated with the sabotage operations. He had to be craft about how he went about sourcing the information. Not every target that the Buteos hit had a dragon there that he could directly source from, but thankfully for him, incident reports had been drafted up by and show to multiple dragons, meaning that he could draw from their memories the information that was needed. As the leader of a military outfit, he could immediately see the reasoning for those targets to be hit the way that they were. While the majority were civilian targets in that that they held no military value, the Buteos must have believed that these places would have been integral for the army of the dragon realms in their logistics operations. Most likely, they would have been.

Even with the magical quill, it still took time to write all of the details. When all of the incident reports had been finished, two hours had passed. Now it was time to inscribe the events that happened at Fort Arder. That was an entire dilemma that he personally found many grievances with. For one, he discovered, was the logic behind the reasoning for the location. Before, there had been many ocean-side settlements that could have supported the establishment of the fort. After the Dark War and the errors in the world's reconstruction, many of those settlements were displaced, sending refugees inland rather than back to the lands that they had previously. The hope was that these forts would encourage those who had lived there previously to return, thus bringing back civilization to these remote places and localized support. Well, those that lived on the coast found it much more appealing when they had found refuge than where they were, and showed no intention of returning. It agitated Ignitus that it was the best reasoning for such a remote place. Sure, it would provide some degree of protection against an invading force, but it was far too distant.

And the battle itself was another thing… Plenty of pages had been filled, and there was still plenty left to go, On top of that, there were plenty of people to contact in their dreams. With so much to do and not enough time to do it, he wondered if he would ever keep up. Maybe if the ancestors would give him an assistant, he might be able to properly do the things that he needed to do.

After an immeasurable amount of writing later, he sighed as he was finally finished. He looked over at the hourglass in the center of the entrance and the glowing… sand? That was flowing out of it. He heard that it was supposed to the time between the lunar eclipses – the Night of Eternal Darkness. The glass was still quite full, so there was plenty of time between one. He pondered what it would be like this time since, if the word was correct, the mountain had imploded. The only way to know was to wait and see, and that was a while away, but the possibility that it would occur during the war was an uncertainty.

* * *

**Thanks again for SatelliteBlues for providing the voice of Cynder once again for this chapter. After a month, it is done. The battle scene could have been written better, but it has been a while since I have written one and the first time with just melee combat. Also expanded a bit on Dryad lore/beliefs here too, so there something too. ****There is also a couple of made-up words that appear in the chapter, "buteoitarian" being one of them. Usually these are amalgamations of words so they fit better in the context that they are being used. In the case of "Buteoitarian," it is a combination of "Buteo" and "humanitarian". ****I don't think I have any other closing remarks, so this is where I will leave it. Thanks for reading. **

**-Abyssal**


	14. Forming a United Alliance

**Reviewer Response:**

**To SatelliteBlues: Thank you once again for helping with the dialogue, as it really does help me out. It was not cannonballs that the Quillian ships shot, but shells, there is a difference. And yes! The canines are at the right technological level that, with a little research and development, they can come up with equal armaments. With winter right around the corner, there will not be much time for them to get their opening objectives completed. As for hearing Cynder's reactions to Bradan's stories, it can be done, without making her reactions and conversations with the Dryads redundant. I'm glad you liked what I did with Ember, as she plays a great role in some of the final chapters. Ignitus getting an assistant was more wishful thinking that it was foreshadowing, but I'll see what I can do ;) **

**To Hunter of City: **

**I'm glad that you appreciated the world-building that went on. It will pay off much later :) As for the ice dragon not using a fury, well, I can't have every dragon dying do that, which they would have done seeing that one's example. That's not to say that no dragons will use fury attacks for the duration of the war, just not when they were dying. Attacking non-dragons was going to be inevitable, as brought up in this chapter, the dragon army is not solely comprised of just dragons. As for Spyro's role, he will play a part. **

* * *

_Chapter XIII: _

_Song: United Alliance – Freedom Call_

* * *

It had been three days since the Battle of Fort Arder, and a detachment of the Buteo regiment was on the move with very little resistance in their way other than the distances between significant locations. Their goal was to establish a forward base of operation that they could launch more attacks from in the future while keeping their spoils of war away from the frontlines. As far as the eye could see, it was a grassy plain that was very featureless. Many had to make the difficult trek by foot, but for those in the cavalry regiment, they didn't have to deal with that burden, their horses dud that for them. As they rode, they had partially doffed their armor and setting them aside, leaving only their chest plates equipped, although the women of the unit were more than eager to loosen the tight-fitting armor.

The horses trotted along rhythmically, not all that different from the sound of a drum beat. In ordinary foot soldier alongside them marching, the sound of their armor add their particular sound adding to the cacophony. It was a nice distraction to the draining task.

The landscape wasn't all that impressive either. The lands that they walked over were mostly featureless full of tall grasses, nothing to marvel at other than the occasional boulder or rock. Those that climbed up the boulders could see much farther than what those on the ground could, and they reported back the same scene: an expanse of grass. But if there was one thing that all soldiers noticed, and that was that they were gaining in elevation, although said gains were slight, and hard to notice at first glance.

Some were talking, others weren't, many were reflecting on the battle that they had just fought. Fort Arder, or Fort Eirwyn as it was dubbed by the Buteos – named after the brigadier general in command of the rag-tag regiment, had become bustling with life – had its facilities commandeered by the Royal Quillian Army. Most of the sleeping quarters of those who were fortunate to take part in the attack had been converted into a triage ward where injuries of all ranges were to treated to the best of what medical staff they had.

The injuries ranged widely in their severity. Those who only had minor cuts and bruises were given the treatment of bed rest and maybe field dressing if there was any to go around. Most of the medical resources were focused on the worst injuries that had been sustained, and there was a lot of those. It was debatable on which element caused the most gruesome of injuries. Fire dragons had caused massive third-degree burns – those of whom affected were given their own room because the smell of singed feathers and cooked flesh was becoming too putrid for others to stand. Ice dragons would give those unfortunate enough to be in their way massive cases of frostbite or froze limbs altogether. Sanitary amputation equipment was becoming hard to find, and hasty, but questionably effective disinfection methods were common. Earth dragons caused massive trauma to the bones of their victims as the force of their attacks were more than enough to fracture a femur with ease. Of what electric dragons were present, paralysis of various stages was not uncommon with their victims. Some recovered from it with physical therapy, others would remain vegetables and be, with a heavy heart, put out of their misery.

However, it was through this encounter that they would learn valuable lessons that will help them in future engagements. They would never grow if they had successes, it takes a failure to see the mistakes that were made and gives the chance to fix those mistakes before it happens again. From this pyrific victory, they grew greater in strength and smarter in mind.

Lyle, Ian, and Erin didn't have all that much to say about their battle. Either they were still in some state of shock over the events that unfolded, or they hadn't had much to say. After much awkward silence, they finally started talking to one another.

"Hey, remember what we said about Kinn on the boat trip here? How it would be hilarious if his "If you die, then it's because you didn't train enough" statement backfired on him. Well, I got word that they found his dog tags." Lyle spoke up, hoping that there would be some conversation to break the bore that was this expanse of grass they had to trek through.

"Oh, so what happened to him? I heard that he was declared missing before." Erin said, her interest peaking at the topic.

"Remember that soldier that was frozen solid by that ice dragon and later smashed into pieces? That was him."

The two other winced. It was a horrible way to go, and unfortunately, that was how Kinn had met his end. They didn't want to know if he was conscious when his body was smashed. Hopefully, he died when his body was frozen rather than when his body was shattered.

"Well, who's our new leader then? We've not heard anything from the command yet?" Erin asked curiously.

"The next rank down would probably be someone left at the fort for guard duty," Ian answered her question, "I've overheard some say that the higher-ups want us and the coming reinforcements to capture as much ground as possible before the month is out. Maybe after that, we can finally form back to our normal ranks instead of being attached to other units."

"That quite a long time for everyone here to be detached from the units that they were initially from." "I know. Your guess is as good as mine."

"You know, there is a reason why we have an organization, and I'm not sure why they would leave units splintered like they are."

"I don't know either."

"Well, what if we make Lyle our new leader for the time being, at least until the military command reorganizes the units together?" Ian's suggestion caught Lyle by surprise. Sure, he had the charisma and some confidence to be a leader, but he technically was still in training and wasn't even supposed to be in Dragon Realms yet.

"You guys, I don't know if I cut out for it or not," Lyle replied nervously.

"You'd make a great leader, Lyle. Don't doubt yourself." Erin replied reassuringly, her supportive side was showing strong. "You'll need a little time to adjust, but I believe that you could do it."

"Yeah, Lyle, I believe in you too," Ian affirmed.

Lyle cracked a small smile. "I'm not sure, guys. I appreciate it, though."

"Oh come on, Lyle, we all believe in you. Let me show you," Erin said to the flustered avian. She pulled back on the reins, and her trained horse responded just like it was supposed to. She rode up alongside the other people on horseback. Everyone on horseback was from the same unit, so they all knew each other in some way, shape, or form.

"Hey, all. Since Kinn is dead, what do you say about making Lyle our new leader?" She asked them all, and they all gave their answers.

"Isn't Lyle that new guy that the Field Martial gave days off due to his proficiency? He still green, but he's got promise. I'd rally behind him," one of the riders said.

"As long as he is better than the asshole that Kinn was."

"He'll need some guidance, but I think he has the making of a good leader."

"I'd much prefer that we have the next in rank take over, but I would like to see the youngster succeed."

Hearing enough, Erin and her horse trotted back up to Ian and Lyle. Lyle judged by the look on Erin's face that there was no way that he could get out of it. After looking back at Ian, who gave him another reassuring nod, Lyle let out a long-winded sigh. He looked off at the grassy plain, deep in thought for a minute before the Buteo puffed out his chest, smiled widely, and gave a small but confident laugh.

"You know what? I think I'll do it."

"I knew you had it in you!" both avians said together, giving the newly appointed leader an extra boost in confidence.

The day from then on wasn't so bad for Lyle or the other cavalry members. That didn't mean that any of the other foot soldiers would have their spirits lightened. They continued to march – or in their case ride – further into the new frontier. Other than the incline becoming slightly steeper, everything was the same as before. An unremarkable plain of nothing. Eventually, the march was halted, and a much-needed rest was called for. Those that were unfortunate to be on foot collapsed with glee onto the grassy bed while the cavalry did the same, although more for the health of their horses than anything else.

The day was still young, and the sun was still high. It was oddly cool, something that they were not accustomed to. It was much warmer back in Quillum, so for it to be noticeably cooler here than it was back home made added to an odd sense of isolation. They were over a thousand miles away from their homes and families, and now in a land that they have never seen before – different plants, animals, and geography. They had each other, but that was it.

Once again, it gave some time to reflect. This time though, Lyle had not been thinking the battle they had won but rather the role that their unit would take in the larger conflict. Warhorses increased their ground mobility significantly, but he pondered how that added mobility would help them in the war effort. A dragon was almost as mobile as one of their horses, greater in strength, and can fly too. That would put the mounted Buteos equal in terms of mobility, but that was the only thing that they could equal. He continued to ponder.

Both of his friends saw him lying down in the grass, a face lost in thought. Erin and Ian were both curious but did not want to break their new leader's concentration, they were still curious as to what he was thinking of. Both of them were thinking about the future that this was going to bring them.

While Ian had joked to Lyle that there was plenty of land for the taking, he was not sure land or wealth is what he desired. Sure, there would be plenty for the taking, but there was something else that he wanted. Perhaps it was the sense of fulfillment that being on this military campaign gave him is all that he wanted. But then what would he do when they won the war when it was all over? Even though there were plenty of unexplored lands here for them to explore, it was known to the dragons. If they eventually won, they would acquire that knowledge of those lands and, therefore making exploration pointless. Ian reassured himself that one day that he would eventually find a purpose and what he wanted.

Unsure of it all, he forced himself to think of what it was exactly what he wanted out of this adventure. The money didn't matter all that much since the salary was being automatically deposited into a bank from the army's treasury office. The land distribution that was likely to take place after the war would guarantee that he would give him a sizable chunk. There were plenty of things that he could do with that land, which would all give him an income that would last him to the day he died. Exploration was also an option that he had at his disposal. Even though there would likely be no need to undergo any expeditions once they get a hold on the geographic information from the dragons, there still might be lands out there that they have yet to explore or settle. There might be wondrous lands out there that have yet to be seen by any eyes, and the thought that he would be the first being to see these lands filled him with excitement.

Erin had more of an idea figured out what she wanted to do. As she had said to them before they left the kingdom, she wanted nothing more than her own humble craft store in her home village. It was a simple thing that most would find reasonable. Remembering back to the battle, there were other species out there with their own unique cultures and crafts. Seeing as how Erin wanted to start a crafts shop of her own, perhaps her time in the Dragon Realms would allow her to find new traditional crafts that she might be able to introduce back to Quillum. There was a degree of uncertainty that came with that, and it would be how open the Quillians back home would receive any of the symbology that had religious significance.

But there was one thing that puzzled her about this land. There was a familiar feeling that this land gave off, one that she knew all to well from her youth. She was brought back to a time when she was young when her mother was training her for a potential life of priesthood, a time where she was steeped in the arts of mysticism and ritual magic. She felt a strange feeling here, one that she recognized before when she meditated in the deepest part of the ancient grove. It was something that she was willing to take the time to solve the mystery if she had the chance.

Meanwhile, Lyle continued to think about the question. As much as he continued to ponder, he was going to need some outside input, and who better to ask than the friends beside him.

"Do you all think that there is a future for the cavalry unit?" He asked both of them. Erin and Ian both gave him a puzzled look in return. Their new unofficial leader was questioning the unit's very existence. Both were unsure about how to answer that question.

"What do you mean by that, Lyle?" Ian was the first to ask.

"Yeah, what are you saying?" Erin quickly interjected before Lyle had a chance to answer Ian.

"Think about it, you two. Cavalry works well if we are fighting with enemies like us: on the ground and lacking in speed. We are fighting dragons who are probably as faster than our horses can gallop, so what is the point of our added mobility?"

The other Buteos were not all that sure how to answer that question. Lyle had a very valid point. If the point of the cavalry was to outmaneuver the enemy, then how can they outmaneuver an enemy that is more mobile than they were? It opened the door for more questions to be asked.

"And even then, we attack with spears that are expected to impale straight through our opponents. We are taught to sling their bodies off of the lance when after they've been impaled, but a dragon is too large and heavy to do that without lances." Erin pointed out, becoming more engaged in the conversation.

"But the dragon can fly too," Ian was quick to point out, "What do we have that can be used against the dragons if they want to launch an attack from the air where they know that we will not be able to hit them with anything?"

"Those are the very questions that I am thinking of right now. We were lucky that we were dismounted days earlier because otherwise, we would stand out as bigger targets riding on horses than on foot."

That was a hard assumption that they had to think about. The trio sat there in the grass waiting, just as lost in thought as Lyle had been. If he was calling the whole unit redundant, then what would come of their occupation if it was no longer a position to be had? What would come of them would most likely be transferring to an infantry unit, the one thing that they were scared of being a part of due to how high the chance of them dying was.

"Then what do you suggest we have instead of this?" Erin said, a tinge of concern in her voice.

"I'm not all that sure to be honest with you, Erin," he replied back coolly, "What I am sure is that against the dragons that we are here to fight, we aren't going to make a difference."

"But what about those other species that fought alongside the dragons? Wouldn't we be effective against them?" Ian was quick to point out. As much as Lyle hated to admit it, Ian was right. But they were here to fight against the dragons, not the other species that were subservient to their will.

"Remember our primary objective, Ian. We are to force the Dragon Realms into surrendering, not to deal with the other species that are subordinate to them."

"But by extension, wouldn't that mean that we are at war with the other species here too?" Erin asked, adding onto all of the questions that Lyle had to think about.

"You certainly could see it that way, but they are not dragons and therefore shouldn't be our first target. If we have to fight them individually as well, then I guess that we will." It was not the answer he wanted to give, but the only one that he could think of. He had a personal reason to want to fight dragons since that black dragon named Cynder killed his father and was an inch away from killing the monarchs, people whom he took an oath to protect when he was sworn into the Royal Army.

Unfortunately, their brief rest had ended, and they mounted their horses again. When the rest of the soldiers got in formation, they began their trek again. It wasn't much, but they had progressed a little under twenty Miles inland when they began their march. Rumors talked about how the leadership wanted to take as much land before the month was out, the regiment's detachment wasn't focused on speed as they were focused on being thorough. The land that they walked over wasn't theirs, and they wanted to make sure that it would remain theirs, or evict those who stood in their way. So far, they had not found any indication that anyone was living here. That was until now.

It wasn't a residence, but it was evident that something had been here before. In the field, off to their left side, was a turquoise colored block half-buried in the ground. In the far distance, they could see large plateaus, some thin spires, others more massive, all of which were just barely above the ground from their perspective, but were probably well above the clouds from where those spires were. It seems these plains were about to get really tall.

/\/\/\

All of those that retreated had made it to the safety of Tall Plains after they had retreated from the battle. From their brief refuge, they were moved closer to Warfang, where there was a little more in terms of medical care. Each one of them has some form of injury from the battle or the retreat from it, and thankfully the infirmary they were put in had plenty of vacant rooms to house them. The medical staff could not believe the story that they were telling.

All of those that worked in the hospital had worked the profession for years and had seen the worst injuries the Dark War gave them. Scarred by what they saw, they were reluctant to believe the story that they were telling them that a new threat is on the horizon and ready to plunge the Dragon Realms into war again. While the staff didn't believe – or want to believe – Ronan, the fox, and Teine were all firm believers.

As much as they wanted to stay in proximity to each other, they were all put in separate enclosed rooms away from each other. When their treatment was finished, they for sure would be able to get back together and ponder what this means for their futures. Closed off in the bland room away from any interaction, Ronan's heart jumped when someone knocked on the door. He welcomed whoever it was in, thinking that it might have been one of the friends, or better yet one of his coworkers that survived the attack. He was disappointed to see that it was neither, but a random dragon that he had not seen before, and another Canine, a coyote dressed in formal uniform attire with a journal and multiple writing utensils. Instead of his heart jumping, it sank.

"You are, Ronan MacNelly, yes?" Asked the dragon in a very formal and serious manner. The coyote cracked open the book and held a pencil ready to write every detail down.

"You are correct. How might I help you?"

"We are here with the Combined Army of The Dragon Realms, commonly abbreviated to The Dragon Army. We are here to question you on the events that have unfolded three days prior," The dragon replied back, still very serious. The coyote began to write down the question world for a word with great speed and intelligibility.

"Was there a fleet of unidentified ships that approached Fort Arder?"

"Yes, ships that I had never seen before."

"The other engineers on the site say that you were a former Skavenger and that you said that those ships were what you called "Ironclads." Is this true?"

"Yes, sir."

"What qualifies a ship a being an ironclad?"

"Well, sir, and Ironclad is a ship that is clad in iron plates on the outside instead of just wood. It adds a lot of protection to the ship against cannon shot."

"How were you able to determine that those ships were ironclads?"

"I saw the glint of metal on these ships in the evening sun. On top o' that, the wooden hulls and superstructures of ships are hardly painted, but treated with oils instead. Those ships were painted."

"Okay."

The dragon looked over at the coyote, who was still in the process of writing down all of the details. When he was finished writing, the canine gave the nod to the dragon. The dragon turned back to Ronan and continued to ask more questions.

"When the ships fired upon the fort, you and the others too shelter in an underground armory, correct?"

"Yes, sir."

"And it was in this armory that you addressed another dragon's injury, the one named Teine. You noticed that there was a metal fragment in her leg. What observations did you make about the injury?"

"Well, the fragment wasn't too big, nor was the wound, but it still produced a nasty injury. The oddity was I've never seen anything shot out of a cannon that explodes before. And the catapults on Warfang's walls aren't really cannons in the traditional sense, using magical power instead of powder charges and cannon shot."

"So you would consider these ships' armaments to be superior to our own, yes?"

"At our current state, yes. If we were to get a hold of one of their cannons, we could have the moles reverse engineer one so that we could have an equal chance."

"Make a note of that," the dragon directed to the coyote, "let's continue."

The questioning session continued for a while, be sure to obtain every last detail possible from the bedded-up wolf. The questions about the battle would be the hardest to answer, not so much that they did poorly, but because they were getting overrun, and they chose to retreat instead of fighting on. When he told the dragon that he and the other survivors retreated, he was received with a scowl. He knew the dragon though of him as a coward for running. Ronan wouldn't be surprised if he found two military policemen at his door to court-martial him for cowardice.

With the questioning over, both dragon and coyote shook his hand and left the room, wherein a nurse cleared him to roam about the infirmary. He was suspecting that it was all a ploy to keep them there so that they could be questioned for later. As he roamed the hallways, he ended up finding both Teine and the fox from earlier sitting in the lobby. Seeing him walk down the hall towards him, they both greeted him cheerfully. Both Ronan and the fox were still in their hospital clothes, where they would receive their original clothing back when they were discharged.

He sat down in an available chair and began speaking with his friends.

"So, Teine, how is that wound of your doin'?" he asked the fire dragoness cordially. She smiled back.

"They healed it up with red gems, but they said that I'll most likely have to deal with the infection from it. I'm bummed about that, but I'm glad that I'm alive and not dead back at that forsaken fort."

"That's good," He replied back, smiling. He turned over to the fox to ask the same thing. "How is your doing, ..."

"Ewan, Ewan Mackenzie," the fox replied, answering the question before Ronan had the time to ask it, "I got a couple of sticks and jabs, but nothing too serious."

"Good, good. I'm guessing that you two also asked questions about what all had happened?" Both dragon and fox nodded their head. Ronan assumed that everyone here had been interviewed about what had happened.

"How were your injuries, Ronan?" Teine asked in the same cordial voice that he had asked her.

"I am thankful that my armor took a lot of the injuries instead of me, but the chainmail is busted, and I'll have to get some a new set."

"And we are a long way from our homelands to some, ain't we now?" Ewan interjected.

"Indeed..." Ronan spaced out for a moment before coming up with a question to ask. "So, what's your story to getting here? How did you make your way to Warfang?"

It took the fox some time to formulate the answer to that, and after a minute of waiting, he found his wording.

"Well, it all kind of involved me and my girlfriend, or rather mine and her parents. She was a Corsac, and I am a Red. We found no problem with our differences and loved each other despite them. Our families, though, they disowned both of us. Knowing that word would spread quickly among the other families, we decided that it was best to leave the canine kingdoms altogether and head for the Warfang, where we knew that we could live our lives without anyone being judgmental of relationship. It was a hard journey for sure. We spent many days in the swamp where the first dragon temple – firewood was hard to come by, but we found some – and hiked over the Argentum mountains, but we finally made it to the city not all that long ago. From there, I got a job in the army because I knew once my time was up, that I could draw a pension from it and draw in some extra income when we start our family someday."

"Aww, that horrible but sweet at the same time," Teine said, stretching and popping her joints.

"That's quite the story, Lad. You should have taken a flying boat to the city instead of making it harder on yourself." Ronan said, a large smile forming on his face. Although he did not have a significant other yet, it was his desire to provide for his family that drove him to join the Skavengers and eventually find his way to the streets of Warfang.

"Perhaps, but you know what, both she and I made were committed, and I feel that because of that, we grew closer as a result. I didn't give up on her, and she didn't give up on me."

"What about you, Teine? How did you end up here?" Ronan asked, curious as to her past. She didn't talk that much about her past, always diverting from the topic when she had the chance. This time, she started to open up a little bit.

"I lost my mate in the Dark War and wanted to take up arms in his place. While I was welcomed into the Dragon Army and was trained to fight like I was going to be on the front, they kept me in reserve and kept me away from combat, putting me here where I was told to build forts instead of defending them. I protested this blatant sexism, but that didn't get me anywhere. I was angry, as many others would have been. But I wasn't going to let that get to me, and so I began to think of it differently. I figured that while I might not be defending a fort directly, I was indirectly defending it by building them as sturdy as I could. That's how I ended up here. It's not what I wanted, but I feel like it was what I needed."

With that, they would continue on, waiting for the others to be cleared before receiving new orders. Perhaps they would get transferred to an infantry group seeing as they all had the infantry training to do it. Perhaps they would be put onto another fort to help construct, or maybe they all would go their own ways where their skills could be best used. Only time would tell.

/\/\/\

Back in Warfang, the blissful ignorance that they all had when it came to know about the invasion had been wholly broken. The worst of all was the scaremongers who only sought to see the chaos of the situation, to take advantage of those gullible enough to panic at their claims. The policing force was overwhelmed by the mass of panicked civilians and had to rely on the deployment of the Dragon Army to help keep the peace. Along with panic about the coming conflict was protests against the current leadership: The Elemental Guardians.

Of course, each city and town had their own governmental leadership, but it was the Guardians that had control over the entirety of the Dragon Realms. However, such a privilege also had its negatives, and that was being blamed and flamed for things that were out of their control. But people needed to find a way to vent their emotions before it exploded out in a tantrum. This invasion was out of their control, but that did not stop the disgruntled population from trying to blame them for the successful attack and capture of Fort Arder, or the criticisms of the fort's location.

Nevertheless, they, along with a still agitated Spyro, had to attend another meeting where they would be able to hear the first details of the war they were not expecting to fight. It was in the same room that they had been in before, albeit this time there were fewer people present than there was the massive gathering that was the second meeting of the civilian and military leadership. But of those fewer people present, there were more influential members present. In the audience were chieftains of the Cheetas and Atlawa, Envoys from the aligned Canine kingdoms, and representatives of the various mole groups. This wasn't just about the Dragon Army, but about all of the allies the Realms' disposal.

There too, in the audience was Firdin, who was in an indeterminate emotional state. It was easy to see that he was in a state of anger, fear, disgust, but somehow remained optimistic at the same time. It was clear that he was not happy that one of his new forts had been shelled and captured, nor did he want to fight another war, but it allowed him to grow and learn. He didn't want to fight, but he was willing to if he needed to.

"As you probably already know, the news of the attack on the newly constructed Fort Arder has come under attack by what we can only assume is the Hawks that the Chronicler alerted us to – or rather our dragons to now alert you all," Terrador began. He was the easiest one to commune between the two groups. "Of what information that we have, they intent on these attacks to continue further, more so than the skirmishes that continue to plague all of our communities."

"Ours especially," Hunter was quick to point out, "most of the skirmishes that have occurred against Cheetah villages and towns. I do not discount the impact on the other respective communities, but we have seen the worst of it."

"Even worse is that we now suspect that those involved in the skirmishes based on the finding on dead bodies were also espionage agents. I fear that our foe has a significant amount of intelligence information on all of us. I also believe that the majority of the attacks on the Cheetah villages are because of our close relationship and that your assets are, by extension, our assets."

"That would be a fair assessment looking at our past," Hunter said, dissatisfied with that answer. Many cheetahs were killed as a result of the skirmishes, as well as a large loss of property. Compared to the losses that the Atlawa, Canines, and Dragons experienced, it was not nearly as bad as it was to the Cheetahs.

"So, what do you suggest that we start doing? If this is a threat to you reptiles, then it might as well be a threat to all of us." A canine spoke up.

Volteer was first to answer him with the swiftest of logical replies. "I would suggest that all autonomous regions prepare themselves in defense of their lands in an equal endeavor," he said. That was the interesting thing about the Dragon Realms. Technically, the confederacy of Cheetah townships, the various Canine kingdoms, and the tribes of the Atlawa was part of the Dragon Realms. However, they were seen as their own enclaves within the Realms, being capable of self-governance.

"But why are these hawks wanting to fight a war with us? Do they not know about our struggle only months previous?" A canine envoy asked, still dumbfounded that there was another war right around the door.

"There is an ocean separating them and us. There is no way that they could have known about our struggles here when there has been no recovered record from the Dark Army even mentioning them in any way shape or form," Pyra answered the question with utmost confidence. She really did do her homework when it came to the situation that was facing them.

"Unless we can get a better understanding of how large of a threat this is to the Dragon Realms, we should all treat it like the Dark Armies have returned for round two." Terrador deadpanned. "We cannot do this alone, only when there is a United Alliance between us all, then we can overcome this threat and secure these lands from any further outside danger."

The room buzzed with discussion over that statement. What exactly did Terrador mean by a "united alliance?" Each autonomous region provided their support in the Dark War, what makes him think that there was not an alliance uniting them all? Another Canine envoy raised his voice to ask that question.

"Terrador, what do you mean by a "united alliance" exactly? We all provided what we could during the Dark War, so we are already united in an alliance in that regard. How would this be different than what we have done prior?" The kingdom that the Canine came from had only recently allied themselves with the rest of the Dragon Realms, but very cautiously at that. It was the fear that their sovereignty would be taken away that fueled their skepticism. If there was anything that would suggest that, then his kingdom would break their ties with the Dragon Realms.

"A much more integrated alliance. I know that your kingdom is concerned with losing sovereignty, and I can reassure you that there will be none of that. What this will mean is that the Realms will strengthen our relationship with our allies. We will protect your lands as if they were our own, we will provide aid in all disasters that require specitarian aid, and we will open up further trade opportunities. The only thing that we as is for you to reciprocate in return."

Terrador's answer caused an even bigger stir. For the Cheetahs and the Canine Kingdoms, this was a lucrative deal. The Cheetahs were already close allies with the Dragons, so this wouldn't be all that different than how things were already were. All of the Canine envoys were intrigued by the offer. The kingdoms themselves were self-sufficient entities that could sustain their own growth internally. With this offer, they could grow larger and faster than ever before. Some of them were quietly snickering as they thought of the ways that they could exploit that against the non-aligned kingdoms.

"What if we reject your offer?" Hunter said, playing devil's advocate, "what will become of those potential allies?" The dragons in the room gave Hunter a very shocked look. Surely their closest ally would not abandon them. In silent response, Hunter shook his head slightly, bringing relief to the dragon in the room.

"Then they would not reap the benefits of the rewards, nor would they be given the opportunity to," Terrador replied. The way he presented it was genius. He was dangling a juicy carrot in front of them, and those that took the bait would reap the rewards. Those that refused the bait would be subsequently removed from any further opportunities for it. All of those in the crowd was smart enough to know what he was implying and had no other option.

Volteer was quick to bring up a motion before anyone could continue the discussion. "I make a motion to vote for your respective regional leaders to consider the initiative, and to convene back again here at a later date."

One by one, each of the representatives raised their hands, each agreeing to the conditions given to them. All of the Guardians were happy with the results. The wording was key, and nobody knew that better than Volteer. By the nature of the meeting, they all had to bring back what was discussed to their region's respective leaders. The meeting was adjourned soon after that, letting all of the representatives off to return to their respective regions and for those in the military command to deliberate on how to go about the response to the invasion.

Everyone cleared out of the room, but Firdin was once again left with the final say in what was needed to secure the best outcome for the Realms. Here in the silence of the conference hall, he deliberated on what to do next. Given now that the public knows about the invasion, there will be cries to fully mobilize by fearful civilians. However, there is a contingent of people who were staunchly opposed to the war, seeing as how many decades of war had been fought against the Dark Armies. The last thing that he wanted to deal with was a split in the populace that would result in violence between the two factions, bringing the Dragon Realms into a bloody civil war where the peace and war groups ironically were the ones fighting each other.

After some time, he finally came to a conclusion. Logistically, there was no reason to throw the entire army at the hawks, but at the same time, they would need more than just a platoon to deal with the coming invasion. Two companies of dragon soldiers from the Dragon Army should be more than enough to quash the invasion force where it was without any problem given that dragons were both physically and magically superior to the hawks that they now faced. With that made up in his mind, he exited the temple and, with a determined pace, walked to the place of his office: the Citadel.

The Citadel was a newer structure in the ancient city, being constructed to be a safe haven to the city and realm wide government positions, as well as their immediate families, as well as being a command center for the Dragon Army as a whole. The thick walls of the structure were made of the strongest stone block that could be found, along with concrete and metal reinforcement. Those involved in the construction boasted that not even the Golem that assaulted the city could break through its walls.

The security detail was also tight, with well over one hundred soldiers from each species filling the ranks with soldiers of all different manners of skills. Being easily recognizable, he was allowed entry without any trouble whatsoever. Strolling down the halls, he eventually made it to his office, where he drafted his order. It was a simple draft, but they were as clear and concise as they get.

_Orders_

_Two battalions of all-dragon soldiers to be deployed to the area of Tall Plains to intercept and destroy the Hawkish invasion force. The two companies are to be accommodated by the logistics branch, as well as another battalion of mixed-species units. Other reinforcements not easily available. _

/\/\/\

When the left the third gathering was over, Spyro made his way to the training room, dojo, or whatever anyone wanted to. If he was forced to get involved in a war that he did not want to fight, then he might as well prepare himself for it. The commemorative statue of him and Cynder with a flip of a switch was lowered into the ground, and the thick floor closed over the stature one it was fully retracted. The dummy targets were easy to manifest, as a simple thought was enough to summon ten or more of them. He didn't know where to start.

He was not partial to any of the elemental breath attacks, nor was he willing to use Aether and risk any unnecessary damage to the temple or the surrounding city. He wasn't too partial to physical attacks either. Honestly, once he strayed from the warrior's path, it was hard to get back on it. That said, if he wanted to get back on the warrior's path, he would have to start back at the basics. And like that time that he breathed fire in the swamp when Sparx was about to be smashed, he channeled his bodily reserves of magic and let lose a stream of flames into the magical dummies. The dummies were shape of the apes that he had fought in mass so long ago, it brought back time that he missed, the time where he wasn't the center of attention, the time that he wasn't important – well, not as important as he was supposed to be – and most of all the time that there was a world to save. The world was not at stake here, and it seems that this war that the Guardians tried to keep secret from him for so long was going to be more of a petty matter than a world-threatening one.

The dummies, made of straw and held together by burlap, were easily burned away without much of a struggle. Spraying fire was the easy part, but there were more advanced techniques that he had learned that he was not going to let to waste. It had been a long time since he had last shot a fireball almost five years ago since his battle with Cynder when she was evil. It took time, but bit by bit, he relearned the technique that served well in many occasions. Instead of the straw dummies being reduced to ash, they were blown to bits by the exploding fireballs.

Comet dashing was another technique that had not used in a while, more so that there was no great utilitarian purpose to the technique. Off the top of Spyro's head, he could think of one practical application for it, and that was to travel fast between two points. The duration of the dash was all dependent on how proficient one was with the technique, as well as how efficiently they could use their mana. As fast as one could dash, they might even beat someone like Cynder in a flying race if they could sustain the technique for long enough. He cast these thoughts aside as he practiced the technique against the dummies from various angles and attack chains that would finish the foe with one. Feeling confident again with his fire capabilities, he moved onto the next element, electricity.

Ironically, this one gave him chills, not from the actual element itself, but from the horrible memory that was having to dredge through Dante's Freezer. Just like before, it was training with the first ability that he learned: plain old electric breath. The arcs of electricity shot from his mouth made contact with the targets, they shook violently, and were able to be tossed around with ease. Out of all of the breaths that he breathed, this one was the most entertaining as he could easily throw a dummy in the air or against the wall. But after each arc of electricity, the straw would always ignite due to the heat produced. While not a good way to cause damage through burns, it was an added and welcomed secondary effect.

Firing off electric arcs and orbs was similar in principle, but in execution was very different. While one would hone in on a target of Spyro's choice, the other could be cast in their direction and wait before detonating the orb, releasing a large amount of electrical energy. It was an interesting chain of attacks to use the orb first to send an opponent into the air, then use the arcs to hone in on the target and deal more damage. Against the straw, it really did not hurt it all that much. If this was a living organism and not a magically enchanted burlap sack of straw, there would be serious damage to the nervous system to the unfortunate victim. The electric whirlwind wasn't all that useful but was practiced nevertheless.

After dealing with all of the heat, either directly by fire or indirectly by electricity, Spyro using his control over ice, and by extension, water was a great way to cool down. Against another wave of straw-filled enemies, Spyro released a blast of cold air and sheets of ice – more like frigid snow. The dummies now encased with ice was a prime target for melee attacks, that would not only shatter the ice but also damage any frozen tissues that a living creature would have. Shooting ice shards was fun, too, as it was the equivalent of spitting on someone. Some of the shards passed straight through the dummies and impacted hard against the stone walls. Spyro winced at just how much one shard damaged the fine masonry. Nothing that a little earth magic would fix. After that, some polar bombs and ice tail attacks, which was debatable on how useful they would be situations where allied soldiers would be close and therefore be at risk of being hit as well.

Finally, there was the earth breath. Earth shot was easy enough, being the basic earth-based attack that all earth dragons learn. Given enough mana, and the attack was easily exploitable when used in quick succession. Earth bombs were a strange technique to use. While it did do damage when the bomb explodes, it created a small whirlwind that enemies can get sucked up into, straying into the category of wind magic, the kind that as of right now only Cynder knows. Perhaps there was some connection had between the two elements. Earth Flail was another entertaining attack to use, as the faster one spins, the harder the attack will hit. It also could be great for breaching walls, the spiderweb cracking in the wall was evident enough where Spyro misjudged distances between him and the wall. Earth pound too was useful, but also damaged the floor below him in the process.

Once Spyro had gone through all of the respective elements, he channeled his earth element into repairing the damage to the stonework. From the cracks, a green light glowed through, slowly closing up the cracks and restoring any potential lost etchings and symbols that were adorned upon them. With a heavy, exhausted sigh, he laid down on the stone floor. Unsure of how long he had been actually training for, Spyro could only assume he spent an hour. He was unsure how many of the dummies that he trashed, but was sure that it numbered over one-hundred or more. In his moment of exhaustion, a voice cheeped into his head.

"_Tired after only that? How pathetic," _the voice – an all too familiar one at that – called out to him, _"That is nothing but a walk in the park compared to what I'm capable of."_

"Great, you again… I thought you said that you would quit bothering me," Spyro replies quietly out loud, hoping not to garner any attention from certain unwanted dragons.

"_I never said that I wouldn't commune with you, so get used to it."_

"Then what about this moment made you decide to become a voice in my head?"

"_I am always here, regardless if you like it or not."_

"So does that mean that you've experienced everything I have too? Or can you selectively chose what you want to experience?" Spyro didn't want to know the answer to that question if he did or not. That means that whatever Dark Spyro, or Nyobaer as he calls himself, knows more about himself that he would like to disclose to others.

"_I know that you are getting lustful without that excuse of a mate to relieve you." _

"For one, that's too personal. Two, that's perverted as fuck that you were… watching? Experiencing? Or whatever it is that allows you to know. Three, we both agreed to do it, I'm not some kind of animal." Spyro replied, blushing heavily that this entity had watched him and Cynder in bed before.

"_If I had a choice in the matter, then I wouldn't have. But through circumstances that I am not in control of, it seems that I feel all that you feel and experience all that you experience,"_ The voice in Spyro's head sighed. Even as much power as Nyobaer had over his slumbering world, even he had his limitations. Why would an entity like that have limitations if he was capable of doing so much?

"So why are you talking to me now? If you want to be friends, then I hate to break it to you, but I don't think that it's going to work out since you **killed me** dozens of times each night that I rested."

_"Because I am bored. Killing you was the only form of entertainment that I had, so the next best option was to open up a little bit."_

"Well, you're not welcomed, so the best thing that you can do is shut your mouth and creep back into where ever the fuck you came from!" Spyro shouted in frustration, not paying attention to the opening door. His heart sank to the ground to see Cyril walking into the room, praying to the ancestors that he did not hear anything, and especially not that last part.

"Why hello there, young one. Honing your skills with ice, I presume?" Cyril asked with not indication of offense. Perhaps the walls were thicker than Spyro thought.

"Ehh, something like that. It was a little bit of everything really, more so a refresher. It has been a while since I had used any of the elements in combat situations." He shifted nervously on the floor, tail almost tucked between his legs.

"That's fair. Do you wish for me to assist you in learning the advanced techniques?"

Spyro was broken on that decision. On one part, he still despised the Guardians for how they had done him, but at the same time, this was also the opportunity to help rebuild that bridge, even if it was with only one of them. But being out of shape magically speaking was not working in his favor, and some time was needed before he was going to do anything advanced, or rather more advance than the techniques that he had been taught.

"I think I will take you up on that offer later. I'm quite exhausted as it is right now."

"Spectacular! When shall we undertake this appointment?"

"How about the day after tomorrow? Can that be done?"

"I will assure it. I have to be off, I have a rendezvous in the city." The Ice dragon did his best to suppress a smile.

"I thought that you were too old to be going out on dates." The young dragon quipped, a slight bit of smartass in his voice.

"Not like that, young one. But perhaps someday I and the others will have the time to settle down. And we aren't that old either."

"Okay, okay. I'll take your word on it," Spyro said jokingly, not really believing Cyril's claims.

"I will see you then, Spyro," Cyril said, walking to the other side of the room to the other door. As the door opened and Cyril was walking out, Spyro had one more thing to say before he left.

"Hey, Cyril. About that training. Could you ask the other Guardians if they won't join in as well? I'm sure that I don't need to let the other elements fall by the wayside."

"I will make sure of it, young dragon!" Cyril smiled gleefully when he heard that. Things might finally be improving between the purple dragon and the masters of the elements. Just like Spyro, there was another thing that Cyril had to ask. "I know you have been deeply disappointed with us because we sheltered you from the truth. I don't blame you if you do, but do you hate us now because of that?"

"I will be honest with you, I do, I really do. Be in my paw prints for a moment, and you'll see why. The love of my life has gone to a far-off land to stop this war, but it seems that Cynder failed. Their army is now on our shores, and I've yet to hear even a whisper about her whereabouts. So I have to assume the worst-case scenario is that she has been killed, and I am going to get involved in a petty war that I have not the slightest clue of information about."

"I completely understand how you feel. Being honest with you, it was one of the hardest decisions that we had ever made. At the time, you were suffering from one crisis after another, and we wanted to make it easier to you by letting you into it easily, not like what was done at the second meeting that you had to attend."

"It won't be like that forever, though. The damage has been done, and there is no changing that, but that doesn't mean that the damage cannot be fixed."

"Is there anything that can be done to help mend those wounds faster?"

"Just keep me informed this time. It will still take time for those wounds to heal."

Cyril gave a reassuring nod, and Spyro gave one back. They both went on their respective ways, Cyril to his rendezvous, and Spyro remained on the floor for a while longer before leaving, flipping the leaver that would raise the statue back up into the room. He was unsure of the mechanism of its operation, but foot by boot, the large statue rose up into the room. The statue locked in place with an audible thud. He stared at the statue of Cynder for a while. He missed her and hoped that she was alive out there. Although day by day, the chances of that continued to drop. It was not often that he genuinely prayed to the Ancestors, only when he was at his lowest. He took this opportunity to pray.

He prayed for Cynder's well being, her safety, and maybe for her eventual return, all while gazing at her statue on the pedestal. He wished to see her distinctive silhouette on a sky-blue backdrop one day, and that the love of his life will once again be with him. The irony was that the object of his focus was what Cynder had become physically.

/\/\/\

Ember ran down the street as fast as her legs could carry her. From her family's apartment home, she had to run halfway across the city to get to the apothecary's shope where Lady Marne would be found. If there was one inconvenience in her life, this would have to be it. This wasn't nearly as bad though, as she had to run through multiple districts to get there, she could see what activities are going on this evening, as well as what was new on the market and bazaar. Right now, though, her priorities were to continue her apprenticeship. The shop was in the old part of town, the most rustic and beautiful part of the city.

The apothecary's shope was a quaint little building, with the second floor being the residence of the shope's owner, while the bottom half was all for business. The stonework of the right color and worn state that gave the building a homey feel to it, one that had been lived in and took care of. Around back was a garden where various herbs and spices where grown, most of which were used in the process of making medicines, but some of the others were used to spice up the residence's evening meals. Ember eventually made it and walked in through the old oaken door, a slight creaking noise accompanying her in. The shope's interior had a nice charm to it, with its appearances well maintained. The scent though, was one of the reasons for Ember to continuously return, with an always fragrant aroma present in the shope.

"Ahh, Ember. It's nice to see you again," Lady Marne greeted her with a smile. She had watched her approach as she was tending to a pot of flowers she had set in the window. Ember couldn't tell if she was joking or genuine with that. After all, Ember was late to arrive.

"It is my fault for being so late, Lady. I will be sure to do better next time." The pink dragon said in a sincere tone, differing from her normal self.

"Don't worry about it too much, Ember. You are the only dragon out this whole city that has approached me for an apprenticeship. As long as the shope is open, I welcome you anytime in your pursuits."

"Th-thank you for being so forgiving of me. I will try to do better to arrive earlier."

"I appreciate your dedication," Lady Marne said, giggling a little and smiling, "come now, we have some work to do." She walked behind the counter and into a room closed off the public eye. Ember followed her. This room is where the magic happened. From here, extracts from plants, animals, minerals, and even spirit gems came together to become medicines that would treat almost any illness.

"So, what are we going to do today?" Ember asked, excited to learn something practical, something that the normal schooling system didn't really provide, and something peaceful that elemental training does not emphasize all that well.

"Today, we are going to be making a remedy that will help with headaches. It's not an advanced medicine, but for your current level of expertise, it should be easy to craft."

Lady Marne had gone about teaching Ember in baby steps. Medicine making was a very complex and very difficult field to break into. Lady Marne had inherited the occupation from her parents, and their parents as well, learning the trade well from both before they passed on. For Ember to join the occupation at her current age, eighteen, it would be harder on the child, for Lady Marne in the same amount of time was already crafting some of the simpler complex medicines, and had knowledge of one hundred plants and how each of them reacted with each other in various combinations and quantities. That was not to say that Ember would never become equal to her, far from it. Ember was a fast learner once she found what she was truly interested in.

"I'll gather the ingredients. You gather up the equipment that we will need for today." Lady Marne said, Ember responding gleefully, gathering up all of the needed equipment.

A mortal and pestle, beakers, tubes, and vials; the measuring scales, and more were all gathered up from an equipment cabinet while Lady Marne gathered the ingredients available from other shelves, or would go out to the garden and pick the carefully grown and labeled plants. Ember already had the equipment set up and ready to go for the process when Lady Marne walked back into the room on her hind legs, with a paw full of ingredients in one and a large codex on the various medicine formulas in the other. She rigorously checked to ensure that Ember had set up the equipment properly, and was ready to have a little fun with her over a small mistake that even she, a master apothecary, makes often.

"What are you missing?" She asked the excited pink dragon. Ember was quick to look a the equipment as well as the old formula book. After looking over it multiple times, the young and studious dragon was stumped.

"I cannot find anything wrong with this set-up, my lady."

"Are you sure? Look again..."

Once again, the young dragon combed through the book, following step-by-step directions like she was taught to do, and looked back to check her own equipment again. After five minutes of carefully looking back over their equipment, Ember had her eureka moment.

"I think I figured it out, my lady." The pink dragon said, looking back and the navy blue dragon watching over her.

"Go on, tell me what you think."

"I got these tubes and vials, but no rack to put them in to keep them from spilling their contents."

The water dragon smiled and nodded her head. "Excellent work! Even I forget about it every now and then. Let this be a lesson to you that even small things can make a big difference. I know that is a very cliche thing to say, but it really does help, especially if you have to work with liquids and solids."

Ember swiftly went back to the equipment cabinet and retrieved the rack to put the vials and tubes in. Even though there were no liquids aside from water involved in this procedure, there were a handful of ingredients, some of which were in very small amounts. "I think I'm ready," She said.

"Alrighty, then, let's get to it."

Little did Ember know that this was a test, one to see if she could follow directions and procedures, as well as using the codex properly. Too much on one ingredient or a look-alike plant could turn a life-saving medicine into a very toxic poison. That is why she picked freshly grown ingredients instead of those that were already ready to use and on the shelves. The first important ingredient was the water that was needed. This medicine came in the form of a potion and therefore needed to be drinkable. The pink dragon secured the water in the stereotypical potion bottle and set them off to the side as she would not need it until later.

From there, she followed the codex's instructions on formulating the drug and started preparing the various plants. Thankfully, the ready-to-use plants were labeled and were not that hard to start weighing and preparing the ingredients. Some required to be ground up into a paste, other not so much, some not at all. The tricky part came when it was time to identify the various garden plants. The codex used had an index on plants and their medicinal and potentially harmful properties. Basic knowledge went a long way, and she was able to start matching up the picked plants with their respective index entries. There was, however, one intentional look-alike plant that Ember would have to use other means of determining which one is which. Some were as simple as a scratch and sniff method, others were not as easy and required a little more time and effort to positively identify.

Confident in her matches, she continued on. When it came time to start brewing the potion, she would use her own elemental magic to heat up and brew, a technique that was not preferred, but acceptable by Lady Marne. She carefully added the ingredients to the beaker and held it up, where she focused her magic somewhere else besides her breath. Holding the bottle with one hand and holding one under it, she willed a flame in the palm of her hand. Ember's own fire would not hurt her, nor it hot enough to burn her hand over the tiny flames or grasping the bottle. Once the potion started to bubble vigorously, Ember dispelled the flames and let the potion cool. When the glass was cool to the touch, she presented the potion to the master.

"Did I do right?" she asked nervously, hoping that she had done everything correctly.

"I'm proud of you, Ember. You even took extra steps to ensure that the freshly picked plants were the proper ones."

"I-I can't believe I actually did it," Ember said with relief, the stress of the situation wearing off and being replaced with a sense of accomplishment.

"Did you find which one of the garden plants was the poisonous ones?" Lady Marne replied, holding one of the plants in her paws, twirling it around in the air while she waited for the answer.

"It was that one in you paw," Ember replied confidently.

"Are you sure about that?" Lady Marne tossed the garden plant into her mouth and started chewing to the absolute horror of Ember. "There was none. I use this to spice up my stews." She said, swallowing the vegetable.

"But how?"

"You were too busy trying to identify the plant that you never looked into the toxicology. They were all edible plants. Let them be a lesson to always check every aspect. Other than that, you passed my little test with flying colors."

Both Ember and Lady Marne laughed. Both of their days had been made. Ember was one Step closer to realizing her dreams

/\/\/\

The ships of the cruisers of the invasion fleet had a little bit of wiggle room when it came to what they were tasked now that they were not needed to bombard the shore. Some set sail back to Quillum with empty transport boats with the goal of one day returning. Some stayed and guarded the fort against any potential attacks from the ocean; others let their crew do whatever their crew wanted to do as long as the captain and commodore approved of the action. One of the actions was to sail along the coastline for patrolling and exploration purposes. Ryan's ship was lucky to be the one that was out exploring along the coastline.

They had to be mindful of how far they traveled, there was a limited amount of coal to go around for their boilers here in the realms. Until they could set up extraction operations, their only source of coal was over a thousand miles away from them. If they did run out, they could unfurl an emergency sail to allow them to sail without the power of their steam engines. But these were ships that were engineered from the beginning to be powered by steam and steam only, so the speed that would be generated by these sails would be minuscule and only enough to limp her in the general direction for coalier ships to provide them with more fuel.

To mitigate this, the captain of the ship was smart with his fuel and only allowed for the ship to go at the speed at which it was most efficient: around 8 knots of speed. Even with the ship able to travel over seven-thousand nautical miles, they still conserved their fuel in case there was a mission that was ordered or if they were ordered back to Quillum for any reason. Thankfully, some collier ships remained with them loaded with the precious fuel.

As the ship sailed along, they remained close to the shore as to not get lost in unfamiliar waters, a fate that none of them ever wanted to die from, as there was no telling when their bodies would ever be found, nor would the ship. So far, they had only gone fifty nautical miles away from the coastal fort, making sure that they did not stray too far, but were far enough out to remain in a lookout position. Frankly, it was quite boring to watch from the weather deck. Other than the shore from which they based their navigation, there was nothing but open sea and clear skies.

Ryan wasn't all that amused by it, secretly wanting to have been ordered off the boat and into the fort where he would spend a much wanted leave. But that's not how life worked, and of what he had heard from the other sailors that visited the other ships, the fort was no place to be at the moment. It was not only a damaged mess that in some places posed a great risk to the occupants, but it was also housing all of the injured soldiers from the battle to take the fort. He also heard stories that it would take the corps of engineers weeks, if not months, to rebuild and expand upon the fort to accommodate the needs of the invasion. As far as anyone else knew, this was their only site to unload soldiers and dock boats.

Nevertheless, he looked for something to do. There was plenty of bait and tackle on board to catch the native fish, which a good handful was trying to do, but with the moving ship, it would be much easier to throw out a net, but that was something that the fishing vessels had, and they did not. As his thoughts lingered on the thought of a freshly grilled fish, his thoughts meandered to a much darker topic. What if one of the supply ships carrying food is late? That was surely put everyone on edge as their rations would surely be halved as they desperately waited for the ship carrying food arrived. To supplement their own rations, the navy ships might have to resort to fishing instead of fighting to keep Quillum's best from dying from starvation. There would have to be localized production of food that not happen, which would mean bringing civilians over to do the work for them.

Ryan entertained the thought of bringing civilians to the Dragon Realms for a bit. There very well could be a need for it. But at this stage of the war? Not so much. As it stood, there were too many risks for the Royal Army to bring civilians over. They barely had any land firmly in their control here, nor did they have the number of soldiers needed to defend all of those civilians if there was an attack that threatened their lives. They would need to capture more territory for that to be feasible, and there had to enough land to cultivate for food and enough for mining operations the needed coal.

Thoughts like these continued to bounce around in Ryan's head until there was a commotion from one of the observation points on the mast. Vaguely, he could hardly hear the words shouted, most of the sound was directed into one of the speaking tubes. "Sir, unidentified ship to our two o'clock!" the voice shouted. Those on the weather deck that heard the lookout shout those words immediately knew what was about to happen, and they were already making their way to their battle stations. It wasn't long after that the whistle was blown, signaling for general quarters. Ryan had already made his way to the six-inch gun on deck and was met by the other crewman shortly after.

A hatch from below deck opened up, and a shell was hoisted from the protected magazine below and on deck to be loaded, then followed by a powder bag right after. Ryan unlocked and swung open the gun breach, and lifted the shell away from the chute and rammed it into the gun, then followed by the powder charge. Once the loading was complete, he swung the breach closed and locked it.

"Up!" Ryan called out, a shout that he could hear from the three-inch guns along the port and starboard sides of the ship. The waited for orders from the speaking tube connecting them to the conning tower, where the ship's command structure would be protected during the attack.

The light cruiser turned, increasing speed to ahead flank. They were going to intercept this boat, and most likely, they were going to sink it too. As it turns out, the ship was actually traveling towards them as well. As the unidentified ship came closer into view, they could tell that it was a wooden ship with plenty of sails. Quillum still used wooden ships powered by sail, but this particular style unknown to them – a ship identification test was required for the navy – for both military and civilian ships. A scout had been ordered to get a close view of the ship and to determine if this was a friendly ship that had gone astray if this was a ship that they had to sink. As the scout spread their wings and took flight to observe the wooden ship, everyone was getting increasingly anxious that they would be within the range of their armaments before the scout could get back, giving up their edge in the process.

Although it was not procedure to do so, the gunner started to train the gun onto the ship, aligning it with the gunsights. The gun captain peered at the ship with his binoculars to get a better idea of what kind of ship they were dealing with. Although there was confirmed identification on the ship just yet, what he could notice from the best perspective that he could achieve was that the crew of that ship had noticed there, and if it was a navy vessel, was preparing to engage with the Quillian light cruiser. Nobody knew the capabilities of the opposing vessel's armaments, and could very well be within range; they were fast approaching the effective engagement distance of their cannons. The gunners were all eager to pull the lanyards and send shells in that ship's direction. They would get their answer soon as the scout was swift in flight and returned to the light cruiser.

All of the gun crew anxiously waited for the orders to be given, and it wasn't long before an enraged voice called across the speaking tube, delivering the orders to the guns. The voice on the other side called out: "Send that ship to Hell!" The gunners were more than eager to. Ryan's gunner pulled the lanyard. A loud boom followed by an intense heat erupted from the six-inch gun as a shell was on its way to the now-designated enemy ship. The shell from their gun impacted the ship, while the other guns shot either short or over the wooden vessel. The magazine hatch opened again, and another shell was passed through the tube and passed to Ryan.

They fired another shot, missing this time, but other guns hitting their marks. By now, the other ship had responded, turning broadside and presenting its guns to the light cruiser. They could see puffs of smoke shoot from the side of the ship, each of its cannons firing successively one after the other. In their panic to return fire, they had not closed enough distance for their armaments to pose a threat to the light cruiser. They would soon correct that mistake and turned to face bow-on to the light cruiser. It was a smart move for the captain of that ship to position his ship like that, as it provided the least amount of area for the Quillian guns to fire upon it.

As they continued to lob shells to the wooden ship, Ryan got to wondering if they were doing much damage at all. The shells that they had been passed were armor-piercing shells, shells designed to go through armor before a bursting charge within the shell exploded. If that ship was made thoroughly of wood, there the impact against the fuses might not even be enough to arm the shells, so all they were doing was passing through dozens of planks in one end and right out of the other. He thought that perhaps if they shot high explosive shells that maybe the fuses would arm and explode, doing actual damage rather than just punching holes. A speaking tube connected them to the magazine, and he promptly shouted an order down the tube without first consulting the gun captain first.

"Give he high explosive from now until we cease firing!" he shouted, getting a less than welcoming response from the gun captain.

"Only I can give that order! What the fuck are you thinking, Ryan?!" He shouted in his the Buteo's face.

Hoping that his somewhat logical reasoning would change his mind, Ryan replied back. "There's no way the fuse on those armor-piercing shells is detonating. Maybe the fuse on the high explosive shells are sensitive enough to explode and let us deal some actual damage to that thing," he replied, hoping that his superior officer would understand his position. He did not.

"How would you know, wise ass? For all we know, that ship might be a galleon, and those shells could be exploding withing without any problem at all!"

"But we could be doing more damage to those ships if we shot high explosive at them, maybe even set them on fire while we are at it!"

"We need to damage the interior of that ship as much as possible so the whole thing will collapse onto itself. Do you have any idea how long it will take for one little fire to burn when those things are so tightly compartmentalized? I don't fucking think so!" The gun captain stormed over to the speaking tube and sent a counter order back to the magazine, but has already sent another shell up, which was high explosive just like Ryan had ordered it to be. He swiftly loaded the shell in before the gun captain could do anything to stop him.

"Up!" Ryan shouted, waiting for the order to fire, which the stubborn and control-happy gun captain was not willing to answer back to. After waiting for several seconds, Ryan had to think of a different solution to get the shell fired. In a method that could be directly taken from a newspaper cartoon, he faked tripped over himself and shoved the gunner, who was holding the lanyard in his hands. Falling over, the gunner unintentionally pulled the lanyard, firing the gun.

"Sorry, man, didn't mean to!" Ryan yelled at the gunner, winking as he did so.

"Ryan, I'll have you court-marshaled for this!" the angry gun captain yelled. Ryan only had moments to look over and see if the shell made any impact or not, and it did. Just like he had predicted, the shell exploded, as evident by smoke from the explosion billowed from the weather deck of the opposing ship. That didn't change the opinion of the infuriated gun captain.

By then, the two ships had closed significantly, allowing for the two three-inch guns facing the wooden boat to fire off their shots. Realizing the danger that was now posed to the ship, the captain put the ship into reverse, hoping to have the ship slow down enough and revers to avoid potential damage. The three-inch guns fired once again, and judging by the tracers in the base of the shell, they were shooting high explosive shells. That confused Ryan as he had thought that they would be shooting their armor-piercing shells as well, given that that was what the other three six-inch guns were shooting. Maybe it was just a loading mistake. He observed the next set of shells fire off from the three-inch guns, and they again high explosive. Reporting that to his superior, he still refused to change his stance on the matter. Ryan continued to do his job, loading from then on only armor-piercing shells.

The galleon once again let loose a salvo of shots. Given that the enemy ship was using old muzzle-loading cannons, there was no telling where the shot was going to go with any certainty at the range they were at. Out of the twenty guns, the opposing ship fired – separated by a gun deck with ten on the upper gun deck and ten on the lower – three of the shots hit the armor belt and dealt quite the punch, but did not penetrate. Two others hit the superstructure, which did deal damage to those respective areas. One of the shots fell short but bounced off the surface of the water, and was headed straight for the forward six-inch gun. All but one jumped out of the way, and only one would be killed. Ryan looked to see if his crew were okay, and found that the person who had been antagonizing him had was laying on the deck or the two halves of him. The shot had hit the poor soldier in the stomach, and with great force, cleaved him in half. Ironic was his last words, as it would be something that he was now unable to do. Next in rank was Ryan, and we would divert back to the tactic that he was postulated would be most effective, and got to work doing it.

He happily loaded a high explosive shell into the gun. "Up!" Ryan shouted, soon followed by other words that he was always eager to say himself, "fire!"

The high-explosive shell was sent a short way across the water and into the other ship, this time resulting in some devastating damage. He assumed that he might have hit one of the guns as the shell exploded, sending many planks of wood from the long hallway that housed all of the cannons of the opposing ship out into the water between them. He let out a victorious shout! That meant that the lower deck had been put out of action. And with the other three six-inch guns firing as well as the two three-inch guns pumping lead into the side of the ship, there was no longer a threat to the light cruiser from that side. Even better was that there was a constant stream of smoke coming from the wooden vessel, a fire withing was burning the insides out.

Just when they thought that the ship was on its last legs and was well on its way to sinking, it responded back with an interesting surprise. A strange feeling filled the air, and they were all shocked to see the ship rising out of the water. Rising so much so that the six-inch guns could not elevate enough to fire upon it, leaving only the three-inch guns able to fire successive shots, their high elevation capability being perfect for this situation. The smaller caliber guns were only able to lob a few shells before even they were unable to get any hits.

The flying ship turned quickly towards the shore and, with great speed, made a dash for safety inland. For a moment, they thought that the battered wooden ship would barely make it away. Those thoughts were put away as they saw the multiple masts of the wooden ship once by one collapse into the inner workings of the ship. In the distance, they could see the fantastic flying ship drop altitude, first slowly, then ever faster before they presume that the ship crashed inland, above what the cliffs adorning the sore would allow them to see. The captain of the ship called at ease, and the crew celebrated their first naval victory. There was a cost to that victory, though, with the loss of one life and the injury of seven others. It was a small price to pay, but compared to what the army had faced on land, their victory was a much sweeter one.

While the gun crews celebrated, the captain made very detailed notes about the engagement for the after-action report, but also for orders to be quickly sent back to the fort. While the wooden ships of the realms were not that big of a threat to the all-metal constructed ships of the Kingdom of Quillum, they in the sky sure could. In his order back to the fort was for a salvaging party to be dispatched to the wreck and recover whatever they could. They needed to recover what made that ship fly, and they needed to recover it fast.

* * *

Information through the intelligence network traveled much faster than it did through the ships that were going to and from the landing sight in the Dragon Realms. It was through that network that the current command structure so far away was able to control all that was to be done on the battlefield. It had it's negatives, being that there was such a great distance that needed to be covered by multiple agents using islands in between the two continents, having them relay the message all the way. They had to make do with what they had. It was also through this network that the mixed results of the first battle were received by the war department.

Field Marshal O'Brian was less than pleased with the casualties, and especially the fatalities involved in those figures. He was glad that the fort had been captured, but if they were going to take that many losses to capture one, then they would run out of soldiers within a year. Something would have to change to prevent that from happening. It was truly a battle of mixed results. They had won the strategic victory but had a tactical loss. This information was to be presented to the monarch couple, which he was not all that excited to tell them about the results.

It was from his office in Castletown, gathered up the papers in a parcel, and left his office in the war department's headquarters. Walking down the hallways in uniform, he garnered the attention of everyone that he encountered, more so because of the rank that he held rather than being a notable person – well, that too, but mostly due to his rank. It was a strange feeling. Passersby either waved at him or did a simple head nod in acknowledgment of his presence. He tried his best to acknowledge back, waving, or nodding back. Having made his way through the department headquarters, he made it to the stables of the department, where he had his trusty steed waiting for him.

From the stables, his horse trotted out and onto the streets of Castletown. From there, he made his onto the horse roads of the city. The architects of Castletown had the forethought to implement different streets for pedestrians, those on horseback and large sidewalks elevated above the horse road by a minimum of three inches for when the roads met. Cleanliness was the deciding factor, with many of the architects stepping in horse dung, some of whom not having the money for shoes. Unlike other major cities that had a singe road for all means of travel, Castletown was the only one that had not experienced traffic congestion during peak travel times. It was truly ingenious. He easily made his way out of the city and made his way to the palace.

Despite the name Castletown implying that the town was adjacent to a castle, the royal _palace_ was actually a ways away. Doing so was a measure to ensure the royal family have their privacy, as well as for the Royal Guardsmen to have some operating room to battle any foe that approached the palace. However, the likelihood of the monarchs being at the palace during an attack was slim. It took thirty to forty minutes at a gallop. He was unsure why he didn't just fly there, as it was much faster to do so. It was more or less to maintain a professional look to ride the horse, as doing so gave an image of a brave general rallying his soldiers for a coming battle.

The forested road had along either side of him was flanked with evergreen trees: pine, spruce, yew, with many deciduous trees like oak, elm, and chestnut trees. It was a refreshing ride, as the scents of the forested road entered his nostrils, opening up his airways. The trip would soon end as he rode up on the first gate of the royal estate. The gate had the typical guard station, which was constantly crewed and ready to stop any unwanted persons from entering. The walls connected to the post ran the entire parameter of the estate and were fifteen feet high and ten feet wide, with a walking path on top for routine patrols. The Royal Guardsmen knew O'Brian quite well but had to hold him up to the same standard as any other person, even if it meant being disrespectful. In reality, they were under the command of the monarchs and therefore, could not be punished by someone who had no authority over them.

Once he was cleared to enter, he commanded his horse to resume the gallop that it had sustained before, quickly approaching the palace seen in the distance. In this final approach, his thoughts strayed to his normal life, something that he would receive less of now that the war was going to be in full swing. He had a loving wife back home with two children of his own. In the build-up to the war, he had already begun to lose time with them, and now he worried that he would have not timed with them at all. There was nothing in the way to stop them from visiting him at the War Department's headquarters but wasn't the quality time that he wanted to spend with them. The respectable salary that he was paid was more than enough to give them the life that they wanted, but money couldn't buy a father.

As he arrived, he diverted his horse to the stables kept a small ways away from the palace itself where stablehands would take good care of his horse while he conducted official business. There would have to be a quarter of a mile walk to the entrance, but it was a good exercise for the older Buteo. He was greeted once again at the door by another group of Royal Guardsmen, where they cleared his entry into the palace. Getting in was the easy part, something that had always been easy. There at the lobby was oddly enough a life-like statue of a dragon, adorned with fine jewelry and high-quality linens. It was a strange choice of decoration, but he had no room to give his opinion.

There was no official meeting time established, only a welcomed, but uninvited appearance. The easiest way was to ask the servants if they had seen them around, and that was giving mixed results. It sent him on a wild goose chase that could only lead him to dead-ends and to places that he had already been before. He had to think for a moment what they could be doing at this given time. O'Brian produced a gilded stopwatch from his pocket; the time was five thirty-seven in the evening. Maybe they were seated at the dinner table waiting for the chef staff to prepare their meals. It was off to the dining hall.

Walking down the echoing hallway, he finally found his way to the dining hall, or rather a small dining room where the two monarchs were seated across from each other at a small, humble table, casually dressed rather than in their flashy regalia. Little did O'Brian know, unless there was some occasion where the monarchs needed to be seated in the dining hall, they sat off in a separate, smaller dining room where six people could be seated comfortably. He felt bad for not knocking, and the monarchs were in the middle of making a sour face at the rude person to interrupt them but welcomed the Field Marshal in when they recognized who he was.

"Parker O'Brian, what brings you here this fine evening?" Jadney asked, quick to offer the military leader a seat at the table. Then the thought quickly hit her. What if he was here for urgent matters that both of them needed to hear? "Has something happened?"

"I'm doing fine, thank you, Jadney. I've come to deliver the after-action report from the first battle."

"Well, don't just stand there, take a seat, and let's see it," Bevan was quick to announce. The Field Marshal reluctantly accepted the invitation and sat down at the barren dinner table.

"Done already or waiting?" he asked, conscious if he interrupted a special night between the two.

"Waiting." That wasn't good.

"Am I interrupting a special occasion this evening. I can leave if you two are."

"No, no, no, It's fine. You're welcome to stay. We'll have the dining staffget you a plate as well." Jadney reassured him, being polite all the while.

"I probably shouldn't. I promised my wife and kids that we would all go out to fine dining this evening."

"You know, we could just have them invited here. It will take a while for the chefs to prepare everything anyway, so there is plenty of time for them to get here. Are you okay with that, you two." O'Brian scratched the back of his head, unsure if he should or not. On the one hand, it would mean that the dinner that they have been planning was going to be called off, but then again, there was nothing finer than dining with the royal family in the palace. Bevan gave an approving nod. O'Brian gave in and nodded as well.

"Splendid! I will have a messenger sent to them. Your wife is at home, is she?" O'Brian nodded his head once again to Jadney's question. "What is her name? I don't ever recall hearing it before."

"Mae," he replied to the queen. "I assume that you already know my residence, so it shouldn't be all that hard to find them." Jadney gave him the thumbs up, got up from her chair, and left the room for a brief moment. While she was gone, it gave Bevan the opportunity to ask O'Brian the burning question that he had wanted to ask.

"Parker, are we loosing already? Were that twenty years of preparation too little?" Bevan asked the Field Marshal anxiously, almost holding his breath as he waited for the answer.

"No. The attack was a success. You and Jadney will have to see more when she gets back. We won the battle, and this is the after-action report." Parker held the parcel in the air and placed it down on the table. In this simple page-sized envelope was, as Bevan had described it, the results of twenty years of preparation. If the attack had been a failure, then it would have shown that the Quillians, despite all of the time that they had spent ensuring that they were prepared, was not long enough and that more time was needed before they tried again.

Jadney walked back into the room and sat back down where she had been sitting before. She looked over at O'Brian and smiled. "A messenger has been sent, and the dining staff has been notified that there there are extra guests and are adjusting accordingly. It might take a little while longer, it should give just enough to get here."

"Thank you, your highness." He replied thankfully. "Now that you all are here, I can finally share the results to you." He opened up the parcel and pulled from it the multiple pages of the after-action report. Before the monarchs were given the opportunity to look at it themselves, he gave a brief overview of the report to them.

"The battle that took place, now dubbed The Battle of The Cliffside Fort, took place when it was discovered that the landing site which had been selected had a fort constructed, one that the intelligence network had not noticed on their initial fly-over of the site during their initial assessments of the location. That means that this fort was constructed in three weeks. It was a small fort, though, and was there to protect the beaches rather than to repulse an attack from the sea-based upon the observation of the fort's construction. The navy escorts shelled the fort, with over two-thousand shells, although with the lack of high-angle guns, they had to shoot at far off distances for the shells to reach over the cliffs and impact the fort as was needed it to, so there were not many direct hits to the fort itself. The fort was not yet complete, and it is likely that the defenders were the builders, whom of which were trained to fight; in other words, they were soldiers that were taught the craft of construction.

"We think that a significant portion of the construction crew was caught by surprise by the bombardment, and that under half of the fort's defenders were killed in the shelling. Landing forces were loaded up in boats and made their way to the shore, from which they charged up the embankment to the planes in which the fort was standing. From the damaged fort, the defenders regrouped and reorganized to form a defense. Their defense was tough, requiring a second wave of soldiers from the transport ships to reinforce the initial wave. The defenders were surrounded and were eventually slain. There were a few that retreated and managed to escape but only represented a small portion of their forces and, therefore, were not given chase. The fort was taken, and it is from its remains that the current operations of the invasion force are being based at."

O'Brian passed the pages over to the two monarchs, where they would look over the document in detail. As they flipped the pages, he could see their expressions change from curiosity to concern. He knew what they were looking at: the causality and fatality report. They would occasionally lock eyes with him, silently asking if these figures were correct. He solemnly nodded his head in response, his heart weighing heavily. The would move on to other aspects of the report, but their reaction was never as intense as it was when they saw the Buteo cost of the engagement.

"What do you suggest we do to get that number down? We can't keep taking casualties like that. This was a small fort, barely big enough to be considered one, so what happens when we find a true fortification? An entire division will have to spill their blood to capture it?" Bevan was first to ask. As much as this mattered to both of them, Bevan was more concerned with the matter than Jadney was; Bevan had much more invested in this than Jadney did.

"I've been wondering the same thing," O'Brian said, holding a hand under his beak as he thought of potential solutions, "My initial thought is that we invest more into ranged weapons, but weapons powered by drawstrings are approaching their limits, and I am unsure how effective they would be against the armored scales of a dragon."

"Have the families been notified yet?" Jadney asked, worrying about the Buteo aspect of the conflict.

"Not yet. The paperwork is still being processed. I was told that notices will be delivered in a day or two."

"May the gods bless their hearts. Only they know what they will feel when they learn of the tragic news." All at the table were put off by that sentence. So many had given the greatest sacrifice, and yet their loved ones were anxious to have earthy and sea smelling letters delivered back to them, informing them of their well being and the wonders of the new lands. They would receive a letter, but one that they would be wholly unprepared to read.

"Can we move away from the subject?" O'Brian asked, pulling the stopwatch from his pocket. The time was now six o'clock. "It's now past my hours."

"Sure. Any further and we would have ruined the mood of the evening." Bevan replied, himself glad that he was finally able to get away from that conversion. Parker was more than eager to unbutton the formal over-shirt and kick back a little bit. Their conversations change topics soon after that.

Servants entered the room later, setting the plates, giving out silverware and napkins, and placing the spice shakers. Once they left, Jadney soon after began to practice her newly given abilities. Bradan had procured more green gems from somewhere to craft another green-gem potion, which he gifted both her and Bevan. She began to practice the craft, a lilac aura emanating from her arm as she did so. Even to lift something as mundane as the pepper shaker took quite a bit of concentration from the new magic practitioner. Given enough time to hone, she might be as strong as Bradan is, magically, that is. Bevan tried it too, this time a crimson aura emanating from his hand – the color appearing to be unique to everyone who can use it.

Some time had passed, and a knock was heard on the door. They welcomed whoever it was on the other side in, and it was Parker O'Brian's family waiting on the other side. His youngest daughter rushed towards her father with joy.

"Daddy! I've missed you so much!" she said, jumping on the unprepared man.

"I'm missed you to, baby bear. How are you doing, you little rascal?" He said with a tone of happiness that was uncommon for the Field Marshal to be heard talking in.

"I'm doing great. I've made new friends today at school."

"That's awesome." Parker looked over at his son. A few years older than his daughter, he was a little calmer and collected. "And you, my boy. How have you been."

The boy was shy to speak in front of people that he did not know but opened up for his father. "I got splinters in my hands again when I was building my fort. I pulled them out and didn't feel a thing!" The boy boasted. In his attempt to be like his father, the son had begun to construct a fort out of spare wood planks that he would pretend was his to defend, and act like he imagined his father would defend it.

"That's not good. But I'm glad that you got those pulled out." He diverted his attention to the most important person in his life. "Mae, I've missed you so much."

He got up from his chair to give his wife a well-deserving hug and a kiss – or in the case if the avians, a little nip with the beak or lick – on her cheek. Mae, reciprocated the affection given, giving Parker a hug and a kiss back.

"I was almost angry at you at first, thinking that you had canceled out plans for tonight, but I see that this was a much better opportunity than fine dining could ever offer."

As everyone had taken their seat, the serving staff had rolled in and served the evening meal. While Parker O'Brian and his family had the wealth to afford luxury dining, nothing could compare to the service that the royal catering staff provided. Once the staff had left, they all toasted their drinks and dug into the meal, the anxiety-inducing after-action report was cast away for a moment, where they all could enjoy taking the time to enjoy their time, even if it was only a short time.

/\/\/\

Now that there was a supply of green gems at their disposal, the alchemists could finally experiment with more magic-intense experiments. What this meant for Bradan was that he could put away the soul manipulation, even if it was only for a short time, in favor of the magical or alchemical experiments that could actually do some good with. Their abilities were not unknown to the rest of the nation, and they were willing to do what they could even if it meant opening up their services for a commission, something that deemed okay to do by Bevan and Jadney. Unfortunately, there was not much in the way of civilian commissions coming in. With the invasion of the Dragon Realms taking center stage, every single militaristic thing was lining itself up to be improved upon.

This disheartened Bradan to the point of refusing the military any service. Still, Bradan was smart enough to know that the military would exploit the civilian-use only system by disguising their intentions using fly-by-night business and groups to get what they wanted. Being the leader of the team, it was up to him to decide what they worked on, what they put off, and what they refused to work on. Because of that power, he directed his team to undertake tasks that have the highest "down-the-line" improvement in the public, although there wasn't much to be had after the first couple of tasks.

Though the commission submissions were closed down to further works until they had cleared their workload, the War Department continued to send in their requests. Annoyed by the constant stream of letters, he finally called it a day and had the rest of the alchemist and metaphysics team dismissed not for just the day, but the entire rest of the week. Everyone saw it as a generous thing to do, which allowed time to had multiple days off that allowed them to rest and recharge. However, Bradan saw it as a way to give the middle finger to the War Department, to send them a message that not only they were tired – that he was tired – but also sick of having militaristic requests sent to them.

As they all left the laboratory, Bradan was sure to lock the doors in so that his week-long break was taken seriously and that nobody would return to the lab until it was time to return. With the doors locked, he could finally go home, something that he couldn't do that often, having most nights spent in the living quarters that had been constructed for them. He was looking forward to seeing his spouse and was curious as to how she was fairing. It tore him up, knowing that so much of his time was spent in this lab than his own home. He was not looking forward to the conversation that he was going to have with Katrine.

Once he got outside, he unfurled his wings and took flight, not caring at all the amount of feathers shook loose by the flapping of his wings. He soared high into the air, riding the convection currents higher and higher until everything below him was distant and far below. Up there, he could feel free, unshackled by the chains of the world has he let the winds take him where he needed to go, only gliding. Besides the sound of the wind blowing past his ears, it was truly tranquil. Up there, he could be a child once again.

Twenty years ago, he lied about his age to fight the Dark Army, hoping to make quick money, money that he didn't have before. He had lived a life of many hardships growing up, of constant movement from one place to the other, of many hungry nights, of nights where his dead-beat parents would blame and beat him for their problems, and _faithful that _night that he was finally left alone to die, only to have the release of death allude him. He never had a true childhood, and to become a child soldier was when the chance to have some form of innocents was gone. But now, a brief moment when there was nobody watching, it was him and him alone, it was the moment he let go.

He soared through the clouds for not much regard for where he went, dancing with the winds, feeling the air rush by him. Maneuvering any way he wanted to, not by how he had to. Flying was his one escape from the harsh reality that was the world below, an escape that presented itself less than the opportunity to actually go home. It made him feel alive and truly blissful. But he still had a lover to visit, and while he could spend hours in the sky with the air filling his wings, he directed his course of flight towards his home but stayed lofted in the air where he playfully soared. But all of that fun would come to an end soon. His piece of property was withing the walls of the royal estate and, therefore, was never that far from home, which also gave him a little excuse for not being there either.

He descended from the high altitude slowly and eventually made a nimble landing right before the front porch. He gingerly stepped up onto the porch and moved up to the door. He tried to open it once to avail. Slightly frustrated at this, he procured a set of keys from a pocket on his pants that thankfully relied on snaps to keep it closed instead of fabric tension. He thumbed through the set until he found the right one, and unlocked the door, announcing his presence.

"Katrine, I'm home." Those words stung to say. He might as well not say them at all considering how often that he was home – or the lack thereof.

"So you finally decided to show up," a voice called back. It was coming from upstairs. Bradan was already certain that she was more than angry at him, and reluctantly made his way to the staircase and slowly walked up to them, the stairs creaking as he did so. At the top of the stairs, he made his way through the short hallway to the bedroom.

There he found Katrine under the sheets, curled up under them. He knew that she had a tendency to be a night owl, but did not expect to see her just now getting out of bed. From under the covers, she shifted, stretching her arms and legs out, before casting away the covers. She had been clothed with sleeping clothes that consisted of baggy cotton sweatpants, a loose-fitting t-shirt, and undergarments remaining hidden below the outerwear. She sat up in the bed and crossed her legs, through the loose-fitting clothes he could her belly poking out. It was one of the oddities about the Buteo body that even Bradan had yet to wrap his head around.

Unlike other members of the avian family of animals, Buteos had strange quarks that separate them from the rest. Avian creatures are known to lay eggs that will eventually give way to a hatchling. While Buteos do eventually lay eggs, the child will go through a gestation period inside of the mother before the egg is laid. The hypothesis most supported is that having a child develop in an egg for the length of time needed was too risky because of the duration needed for the fetus to develop. In the time needed, there was an increasing risk of damage to the egg and the child. The idea was that to mitigate this risk, the distant ancestors of the Buteos began to mimic mammals in their reproductive methods, meaning that internal gestation occurred, but an egg was still laid with the partially developed child inside. It also states it is the reason why Buteo females exhibit breast tissue despite not needing to provide a young with milk. While Bradan wasn't a believer in the intelligent design idea that some religious folks subscribe to, but whatever entity thought that making Buteos like that must have been retarded thinking that was a good idea.

"You can't seem to leave that job of you for long enough to come by more than maybe once or twice a week," Katrine said indignantly. Just like he expected, Bradan palmed his face and was ready for ass-chewing that he was going to get. "I'm starting to wonder why I'm still here."

"If you were in my shoes, you would understand all that I have to go through."

"Would I now?"

"Yes, sweetheart, you would," He sighed, "you have to understand that our workload is only getting bigger, and there is no other magicians, mages, or whatever you want to call us out there because we don't have the supply of green gems to make green potions to make new ones." He hated to have to tell a lie to get out of this situation, but it was the only option he had a the moment. The faster that he explain to Katrine, the faster this debacle ends.

"Then why not use what gems you have left to make as many options as you can so that you don't have such a small team anymore?"

"We are saving those for when we need them."

"It sounds like you need to make more magicians then." She had a sound point. He didn't say much to her about what all went on in the lab for security measures, and he sure as hell did not tell her about what happened with Cynder.

"I know, I know..."

"Then, when you fly off to work tomorrow, you should get on that."

"I dismissed everyone for the week. Nobody is going back to the lab until then, not even me."

"Oh?" Katrine was visibly confused. She was used to him spending more and more time there, to hear that he called off work for a week was unusual, completely unlike him. "What made you want to that?"

"I'm tired, that's why. So much to do, not a lot of time to do it. I closed our work list, only for the imbeciles at the war department to keep sending us a ludicrous amount of work orders. The rest of my team is drained, and they need a break. On top of that, I felt as if I've not been treating you right being away all the time, so I wanted to make that up to you."

Katrine's indignation simmered down a bit after hearing that. She was tired of being put off, that the one that she had fallen in love with was always away. She could not deny that the income brought in by the occupation was more than enough to provide for a family of ten or more and that all of their need were supplied thanks to being on the royal estate anyway. But there was little need for Bradan to spend his nights in the palace slaving away at tasks that he had others to assist him with.

She beckoned him over to sit next to her, which he was more than glad to do. He flopped down on the beside her, letting out a slight groan doing so. The mattress here was much firmer than the once that were used in the palace. Sitting up, he scooted over closer to her until they were shoulder to shoulder. He wrapped his right arm around her waist, and she did the same with her left.

"You know what, I think when I go back, I'll use the last of the green gems to make enough potions to get more magicians and alchemists, then I'm assigning a new leader to them. I'll be just a figurehead at that point." Bradan said in a somber tone. He could see a smile form on her face.

"I think you'd be making a good choice." She happily replied.

"I think you might be right."

They sat there for a while, glad to be in each other's company. It wasn't long before they got up, one because Katrine was no longer tired, the other because he realized it had been almost three days since he had a shower, and both enjoying each other's company. When Bradan was finished with his shower, he donned a pair of easy-fitting, comfortable clothing, and went downstairs. Katrine was quite the bookworm and had been five-hundred pages deep into an almost two-thousand-page novel. He couldn't help but be amazed at how fast his lover could read such a novel in a week when I very well could take him or any other Buteo a month.

He walked into the kitchen and examined the cupboards for supplies. He nodded his head in approval, as the cupboards and cabinets were stocked with all sorts of supplies, all thanks to Bevan and Jadney for being generous enough to provide them their needs. "What do you want for dinner? Or breakfast?" He asked.

"It doesn't matter. I'll have what you have, as long as you don't burn it or overcook it like you usually do." She said sardonically. He wasn't the best in the world when it came to meal prep, but he was slowly getting better at it.

"Let me look at what we have." Bradan looked around all-around to see what was available. A whole heap of all kinds of vegetables, and an odd variety of meats. Rabbit? Deer? And even bear meat? He shook his head in astonishment. "Since when did we have wild game?"

"I was curious, so I requested it," Katrine answered, not even looking up from her novel. "They are actually pretty good, but the bear is very greasy."

"You do know that bear meat has a high chance of containing trichinosis, right?"

"Just cook it long enough, and it will be okay."

Bradan smirked and shook his head. That was the quirks that he loved about her. He magically retrieved all of the things that he needed and got to work preparing his surprise. It was his hope that the little time he had associating with the chefs in the royal palace was enough to allow him to make a good meal for once. All of the vegetables were prepared, and the meat was cut into the right-sized chunks need for his surprise dish: wild game stew. With the prep work completed, it was time to get the stove heated up. The stove, just like those in the palace, was a wood-heated stove, which took its sweet time getting heated up. Having a spritz of water against the stovetop instantly flashes to steam, it was time to get the pot over the stove and start making it.

It was seven-thirty in the evening when it was finally finished and was ready to serve. Bradan filled both a bowl for him and a bowl for Katrine. Walking out into the living room, he presented his creation to his lover. She placed a bookmark on her current page and set the book down on the coffee table. At first, she was reluctant to take a spoonful of the stew, but with the savory aroma filling her nostrils, she took a bite.

"There's no way that you made this." She commented, getting another spoonful.

"I guess that means that I'm better than you thought I was?" He asked rhetorically, proud of his achievement.

"Well, you can't burn something that is wet, silly."

They both laughed. It was good to be home.

* * *

**Well, this is a big one! Over 20 thousand words long! It took a long time to make this chapter, but I'm glad that it's finally done and over. I've not got any closing remarks, as I'm brain feels numb after finishing this. I can say that I don't think that the next chapter will be as long as this one, but I might challenge myself to go above and beyond next time. That's all I have to say, so until next time, happy reading! **


	15. A Mystical World

**Reviewer Response**

**To SatelliteBlues: I'm glad that you enjoyed it. Trying to peer into domestic lives during the story is something that I wish to do, as it matters just as much as the battles do. **

**To Hunter of City: Thanks for the input. As for your two ideas at the end of the review, well, I'm not saying anything. More about this mysterious character will be revealed later. **

**To SkdaGamer: I went over all of your reviews on discord so there would not be a massive wall of text here lol. Anyway, I hope I did a good job of addressing the things that you brought up.**

* * *

_A Quillum only chapter_

_Chapter 14: A Mystical World_

_Song: (I can't find a good one, instrumental or otherwise)_

* * *

The morning light shone through the windows and the thin curtains of the upstairs bedroom. Just like Bradan said, it had genuinely been a week since he ordered the teams to be dismissed. Unfortunately, their break time was up, and both he and Katrine hated that fact more than anything. But this time was going to be different. With the new group of magicians, it would open up the possibility of expansion of their particular field, allowing for more tasks to be done faster with more hands available to assist. It would also allow Bradan to take a step back a bit and appoint people to more leadership positions, taking the burden off of his shoulders

Bradan threw the covers off and rolled slowly out of bed, groaning like the wooden boards did under his feet. Katrine let out a sigh of mixed emotions, knowing that he had to go back to work, a profession that she came to despise, but knowing that this was a sign of better things to come. That after today, there would be more time between them, and eventually between their newborn child.

Taking careful steps, Bradan went to the wardrobe and selected his clothes for the day. This time, he spared all of the fancy and formal layers of clothing that he was known for in favor of a looser fitting outfit. A simple pair of denim trousers, an airy and unbleached cotton shirt, and a trench coat to go over it all to give some degree of formality. It might have been crazy to wear a trench coat with it only being three weeks until summer, but it was all about looking presentable.

He made sure to gather up the rest of the items that he would need for the day from the first floor, giving extra thought to the lab keys that he took with him. With everyone now hopefully well-rested, and their message to the War Department made clear, it was time to get back to it, but with more helping hands than before.

With a satchel thrown over his shoulder, it was time for him to leave. But before he did, there was something that he needed to take care of first. He went back upstairs, where Katrine was still in bed, but sitting up rather than laying down like she was when he went to the first floor. She was still in a daze, her sleep scheduled still off-kilter.

"I'll be back later this evening, my love," he said, running his fingers through the soft feathers on her head. She cooed in response. "Things are going to change from here on."

"I hope so," she replied, running her left hand over Bradan's scaly forearm, his fingers still running through her head feathers.

"I hope as well.

"Promise me this..." she said, trailing off before she could finish.

"What might that be?"

"Promise me that you'll be back home this time. The last time you said that, you left for the palace and I didn't see you for a week and a half."

He let out a guilty sigh. "Yeah, those nights that I left you alone… that all is going to change, I promise."

"Make sure it does, please."

"With the bullshit that's going on, I cannot guarantee that it will, but I will do my damnedest to make sure it stays that way, okay?"

"Okay. Now get off and do what's _needed_."

Bradan leaned in close and gave her a kiss on the cheek, which she returned immediately after. With that, he was on his way downstairs and out of the front door, and took flight to the palace where there was work to be done. He was swift this time, not like the journey home last week in which he took a more leisurely approach. The faster that he was able to get this done and over with, it opened up the opportunity for more time to be spent elsewhere, not just for him, but for everyone on the team as well.

The flight there was over quickly enough. When he landed in the royal gardens, the guardsmen took up arms as they usually would, but unlike before, actually rushed him with weapons drawn. His heart sank at the sight of dozens of guardsmen charging at him, and defensively put up a magical barrier between him and the armor-clad guards. Seeing this, they quickly halted their charge and lowered their weapons. Bradan lowered the barrier and walked past them into the palace. None of them were willing to say anything, each of them exchanging nervous looks to each other and the alchemist.

"Got an interesting choice of clothing, I see," one of the guards spoke up, breaking the awkward silence.

"You thought that I was an intruder because of that, didn't you? Don't lie, I will only be _slightly_ offended by the answer," he jokingly said. The guardsmen only let out nervous laughs.

"Uh, yeah, w-we kind of did."

"Completely understandable. I would have done the same if I were in your boots." Bradan patted the guardsmen on the back and made his way into the palace.

As he walked into the foyer from the corridor, he couldn't help but notice a peculiar stone statue up on a pedestal. He was not all that pleased at the sight. The statue was that of a peculiar dragon, the one that he visited in the royal forest every other day. _Those fucking idiots! That body is too important to use as a bloody decoration! _he thought to himself in anger. He had to admit with all of the jewelry and fine linens that had been put on it gave it a very aesthetically pleasing look, but the preservation of a petrified body was more important. Needless to say, the issue would be resolved quickly, and the petrified body would be moved back into safekeeping soon enough.

As he continued onward, walking down the ornate hallways, he noticed an increase of normal soldiers throughout the building, each of whom were doing various tasks. Maybe something was going on that called for an increased alert. No matter, that was not his job. He couldn't help but see that many of the soldiers were carrying crates with them. Alongside the ordinary soldiers were Royal Guardsmen, and just like those that were outside, they gave nervous looks to one another and couldn't meet Bradan's eyes.

Although he was on a mission, he diverted down a different hallway, changing the destination from the lab to the palace kitchens. The wild-game stew that he successfully made last week was thanks to the advice from one of the chefs, and it was his intention to thank the one that gave him the advice. Naturally, the kitchens were busy as they always have been. There were always mouths to feed, mostly the large number of staff in the palace and the royal guard as well. Had he arrived at a later time, he would have caught the chef going off shift, but instead caught him in the middle of meal prep for the next rotation of guardsmen.

Making a mental note to come back when his informant was available, he corrected his course back to the laboratory. Again, people couldn't look him in the eye.

Bradan couldn't deny any longer than an ominous feeling was in the air. He continued on until he was in the Alchemist's Hallway, and that was when he saw it. Something was wrong, and it didn't take concerned members of his team beckoning for help for him to see it either.

He quickly rushed over and into the lab. The sight was a hard one to see. All of their books, manuscripts, and loose notes were being packaged up in crates. On top of that, their equipment and current experiments were being moved as well, some of them in advanced stages of development being ruined because of it. Bradan was fuming, with his fists tightly clenched. If he lacked self-control, he would have blasted everyone apart in the room with magical attacks. It was clear what those soldiers were not here for an exercise or extra security, but to pilfer all magic-related items from their lab.

"What the fuck do you think you all are doing!?" he shouted at the top of his lungs, straining his vocal cords. Everyone in the room froze in their place, too scared to move in case one angry Buteo blasted them to bits with an energy blast. There was only one who had the nerve to move.

In the center of the room was the person overseeing the operation, someone from the War Department. It wasn't the Field Martial, but someone else entirely, someone that Bradan had little respect for to begin with. He lost all respect for the man right there and then.

"Ahh! About time you showed up."

"Austeyn… What in the name of the gods are you doing!? You've fucked up everything we've done here!"

Austeyn was the head of the research and development wing for the army in the War Department. At the ripe age of fifty-six, he held his position ever since the War Against the Dark Army was vanquished. Every new weapon that would be adopted by the army had to be approved by him, otherwise it would never see use in Quillum's army. It was through his 'better judgment' that the army continued to use old melee weapons and antiquated armor instead of seeking innovation as the navy did, and subsequently got. The relationship with the alchemists and the research and development wing was strained at best, and the actions that Bradan took was the straw that broke the camel's back.

"It's quite simple: ensuring our greatest asset remains at our disposal." Austeyn remarked arrogantly. That stunt you pulled last week was more than enough to prove that this organization is not in the best interest of the kingdom, and therefore all future operations will be overseen by the research and development team in the War Department."

"You can't do that, Austeyn! Just look at where you are at. The monarchs sleep four floors above us!"

"Actually, we can. We've done some researching, and this organization's charter is not a royal charter. You might have your laboratory in the palace and receive royal funding, but since you are not under a royal charter, you are not under the authority of the monarchs. So under the Wartime Act of 1981, we are commandeering this organization for the best interest of the kingdom." Austeyn produced a piece of parchment paper, the charter for the magic department, and handed it over to Bradan.

'The Magician's Guild,' as it was called in the original text, had indeed been established through a means of a regular charter, not a royal one. Bradan tried all that he could to come up with a counterpoint, and despite all of the information at his disposal, there was no way that he could weasel his way out of this one. All that Austeyn had said was painfully true. Despite being closely associated with the monarchs, there was nothing royal about them. Defeated, he let out a long and sorrowful sigh.

"I also know what you did with that black, scaly bitch," Austeyn leaned forward and whispered, smirking at Bradan's shocked reaction. "That's right, the cat is out of the bag. If you didn't leave your diary in your office, then we would not have the slightest clue. Oh well. Too bad, so sad." He leaned back. Thankfully nobody else but him heard the revelation.

Bradan's face was turning a visible red underneath his feathers. The fear he held a week ago was coming to fruition. He was content with the other alchemists knowing, but the military was the last group he was willing to tell.

"Then you know its importance and why it must be kept..."

"That, you will not have to worry about. She will be solely in your hands. Out of sight, out of mind as far as I'm concerned," Austeyn remarked, this time a bit more genuine than he had been previously. "Now start packing; there are plenty of new arms to make." For Bradan, that sent him over the edge.

"You know, I think you'll be a fine leader," he returned with a smart-ass tone, just like the one that Austeyn had been talking to him in.

"Oh?"

Fortunately for Bradan, the soldiers in the room had yet to package the siphon-style brewer as well as a handful of green gems lying next to it. It was enough gems to make one green potion, and there was more than enough water available. He forcefully grabbed Austeyn's arm and dragged him to the table that the brewer and the gems sat upon.

"You see, I like to consider what I do for a living as a way to better the lives of everyone in the kingdom. We've facilitated more innovation in history. Magic-powered lighting free from choking smoke? We made them. Effective medicine for influenza? We made them. Facilitated the growth of industry on a scale never before seen? We did that. I didn't care at first if we helped to make weapons or not, in fact, I actually supported it. My old scars reminded me of what I despised. But our unexpected guest has changed my perspective a little bit. Maybe there's more to this than just weapons."

"Don't be treacherous, Bradan! You know good and damn well that dragons have been the enemy of our people for over a thousand years! First with that purple one, then the Dark Army, and now the one that had to poke its head in our lands! This is the one advantage we have against the dragons; for us not to utilize it would be ignorance at best."

"There is no 'I' in 'us.'" Bradan pulled the keys to the lab out of his pocket. They wouldn't be used here anymore, and he would not have a use for them either. He slammed them against the table, causing the brewer and gems to bounce off the table. "Come to me when you want to put this to some actual good. Until then, I wish you luck in leading _your_ new organization. Fuck you, you pretentious dickhead." And with that, he made for the exit with one destination in mind: home.

Everyone in the room was stunned to the point of silence and inaction. Nobody expected such a reaction from the leader of the alchemist and metaphysical research team, not even the researchers closest to him. As he left, he felt a strange feeling, a feeling of satisfaction he had not felt in a long time.

"And if you do anything to that tree or her petrified body, I will personally hunt you all down and sacrifice all of you. Every. Single. One of you." With that, Bradan walked past the threshold.

From there, he made his way out of the palace and the normal exit, where this time, unlike others, he informed the guards of his departure this time. And just like his flight to the palace, it was direct and to the point. It wasn't much, but it gave some reflection time. He left in a heat of passion and not of a sound mind. If anything, being emotionally charged was the worst possible way to be when addressing that situation. Oh well, it wasn't his problem anymore anyway. Although with that, he had handed the entire alchemist and metaphysicist teams over to a man whose job was to approve of weapons development. In his act of separation, he only exacerbated the problem at hand. Now, it would only be weapons development out of both teams.

But it was the metaphysicist that he was worried about the most. While he did have the most knowledge of the procedure and had firsthand experience – albeit accidentally – with it, it would likely be only a couple weeks before they would have to perform the procedure again to start extracting souls. And while it wouldn't be his problem as he was now no longer with both teams, it was still his creation, and therefore, he was still in a way responsible for the actions that they took. Perhaps there was a way that they could fix that, but there was no way that he was going to be a part of the convoluted complex that was the hierarchy of the military, not again anyway.

_Dammit, Bradan. Why did you have to do that, you fucking idiot!? _he thought to himself.

He was starting to regret his rash decision making, as all it was going to do was make the issue worse overall than it was going to make it better. Leadership and experience could be replaced in time, and it was only a matter of it before the _military's _alchemist and metaphysicist teams were at their fullest capacity. There had to be something that he could do to fix the issue, but that solution was evading him. And it was a solution that would have to wait as he now had to explain to Katrine why he was home so early, as he wasn't expected back home until evening.

He descended quickly towards the ground, folding his wings inward and gaining speed quickly. He waited for the right moment to snap open his wings, and that moment was fast approaching. Within a couple seconds of descent, he snapped open his wings and began flapping, drastically slowing his speed as fast as he gained it. He made a safe landing just off the porch and took no time walking to the front door and into the living room.

The door remained unlocked, which for Katrine was unusual since she had a habit of keeping it locked, even when they were both there. Bradan was the one to keep the door unlocked, knowing that whatever threat came through that door was something that he was more than able to handle. As it turns out, she hadn't come to the door to notice; in fact, he hadn't been gone long enough for her to fully wake and get downstairs to lock it and go about her waking routine. She was walking down the stairs with very little clothing on – only undergarments – only to see her lover in the living room. She yelped in surprise, not expecting to see him back.

"What the hell are you doing here!?" she yelled with astonishment. "I thought you were supposed to be back in your lab."

"There was a hiccup with that." He doffed his trench coat and threw it in her general direction. "Here, cover up."

Katrine scrambled to get the coat on. The trench coat was tailored to Bradan's body proportions, and fit him snugly. Naturally, the coat would not fit Katrine as well as it would him. Where the coat stretched to Bradan's knees, the coat was only inches away from her feet, and her hands were completely concealed within the sleeves. Katrine quickly fastened all the snaps, and Bradan smiled at the sight of the large coat on her petite frame. It was quite cute.

"There was a bit of a… falling out," Bradan replied bashfully, scratching the back of his head.

"What did you do?"

"Not me, what that prick Austeyn – head of the research and development wing at the War Department – did. He used loopholes to commandeer not just our various teams, but the entire Magician's Guild. Apparently, that mandatory week-long vacation and lack of cooperation were more than enough to piss him off."

"So you left then?"

"I made it clear that we wanted to do some projects that had some betterment, not just to pump out weapons. So when he tells me, _the leader of the Magician's Guild _to hurry and pack so he can start developing superweapons? That is where I drew the line. So I left."

"So what are you going to do now?"

That was an excellent question. What was he going to do now? Working his magic was the one thing that he for sure knew how to do, and it was what he was good at. If Bradan wanted to, he could easily live out the rest of his life in comfort with the money that the job had brought in, but then what was there to live for? Hard questions needed well-thought-out answers, and there was one place that he could go to that would help them find the answer.

"Want to take a trip with me?" he asked. Katrine's reaction was a strange mix of confusion and intrigue.

"Where to?"

"Just a trip into the forest."

/\/\/\

By now, the news had filtered its way up into Bevan and Jadney. It was not like Bradan to storm off in the way that he did, although they could not blame him for what he did. What Austeyn did a fucked up thing to do, not only how he did it but why he did it. Of what conversations they occasionally have with him, they could tell that Bradan was shifting towards a differing mentality, one more orientated towards peaceful applications of his resources. The alchemist had every right to pick and choose what kind of project they worked on as they were, legally speaking, a private organization subsidized by royal gold and silver. And because of that, the War Department's research and development wing were able to take over the operation of that by legislation that King Dylan had enacted before Bevan ever took the throne.

The whole ordeal was something that they were not all that happy about, but there was really nothing that they could do about it without causing an internal struggle that would last for who-knows-how-long, which was something that they were not looking to cause nor resolve if there was one. Even then, they did not know what Bradan was going to do now that he quit.

_I gotta go talk to him,_ Bevan thought to himself, pondering a potential solution. There was none to be had at the moment. The monarch palmed his face. He had been king for fifteen years, and there hadn't been drama like this. _Maybe I can talk some sense into him, or at least convince him to continue living here. _

And with that, he sought him out. From the throne room, he set off for the front entrance, where he would be accompanied by members of the Royal Guard. But before he did that, there was something that he had to do first. It was down multiple flights of stairs to get there, but eventually, he found himself in the basement, where the alchemist labs were situated, kept away from prying eyes and any potential touring guests. By the time of his arrival, there was nothing left, nothing that he could have done to bring a stop to the actions of Austeyn. Just peering in the door, he could see that everything that could be taken was, and all that could not be taken was left.

He stepped solemnly into the barren room, the only thing left was the immovable tables and a set of keys on them. He reached out and grabbed the keys off of the table. It was touching to Bevan that Bradan would throw down his keys, only to have the person in charge of the hostile takeover refuse to even take them when he left. He stowed away the keys in his pocket, and from there, continued on his original path, walking out of the grandiose front doors of the palace.

As the group of guards were being assembled and readied for their escort, the thought that Bradan might not even be home struck Bevan. He remembered overhearing people say that Bradan had been making trips on the trails in the forest, so if anything, he might have already left if he had not already. There was no time to walk the distance or ride upon a horse, he had to get there and get there quickly. With a shot, but lacking notice given to the guards, he quickly took the air and flew in the direction of Bradan's house. Below, the guards were showered by old feathers finally falling out of his wings as they watched him gain altitude.

Once sufficient height was gained, he took to the direction of Bradan's house. He hadn't flown anywhere in quite a while, and the feeling of flight was something that felt foreign, yet familiar at the same time. Bevan flapped his wings harder and faster, hoping that he would make it there in time. The direct flight path to Bradan's residence was quick, although relative to other means of travel. It still took him more than twenty minutes to get there.

He dove down quickly and landed a little faster than he was hoping for, and instead of landing on his feet, he fell on his belly and skidded to a stop.

"Ohh… that's gonna leave a mark," the monarch grunted as he picked himself up off the ground, beating off the dirt and dust off of him. The expensive clothing took most of the wear and tear of the impact, leaving the feathers underneath more intact. Had he landed in gravel instead of the grass, then that might have been a different impact.

There at the front porch, he politely knocked on the door and waited for an answer. No answer. He knocked again, this time a little harder. No answer. Next, he rang the doorbell, giving the bell mounted from the wall a good ring. Still no answer. He even tried to open the door, but the door was locked. Bevan arrived a little too late. If Bradan had gone to the forest, then there was no telling how far he was already in, nor would he be able to tell with ease what trail he was on. It was a confusing mess.

If he couldn't talk to him face to face, then maybe he could leave a note for him. The problem with that was that he had no kind of paper or parchment to write on, nor did he have any writing utensils either. Defeated, he took to the air and flew back to the palace. Bradan had a mailbox, he could easily send him a letter, although it would be quite frivolous to do so with them being in close proximity. Maybe just a small note would be fine.

Explaining to the guards that his clothes were in tatters because of an accident rather than someone intentionally harming him, Bevan found himself in his private study, a room on the higher levels of the palace. The day was young, and there was plenty of light filling the room from well-positioned windows. The note he wrote was a simple one.

"_Give me a week, and I'll see what I can do."_

/\/\/\

For Bradan, he was adequately clothed for the occasion beforehand. Katrine, not so much. While the trench coat was more than enough to cover up, something different was needed. It was in a similar fashion to what she had worn the week previous when Bradan arrived home: a pair of dark blue cotton sweatpants, and an airy light green, short-sleeved shirt. With the change in attire, they set off for the woods.

Bradan had known most of the walking trails through the forest, but was unsure if Katrine had ever been there or not. Either way, this time would be a different experience altogether. They walked on the primary loop, one that the other trails branch off of. To get to his own trail, he would have to get on a secondary trail, which in of itself was an arduous walk, an innate means of protecting Cynder's tree.

"So, where are you taking me? I've not been this far on a trail before," Katrine said, having reservations about coming this far deep into the forest.

"It's a special place, trust me."

"But why here?"

"You'll see."

As they walked the forested trail, the couple were coming up upon the footpath that Bradan had cut out with his multiple trips to the heart of the forest. Bradan had already begun taking the unofficial trail, while Katrine was a little more hesitant.

"Come on, Kat, it's only a little way longer."

"Are you sure we should be going off the trails like this?"

"This is my trail." He held out his hand. "It's only a short way away."

The two Buteos continued their trek through the forest hand in hand. Compared to the topography of the secondary trail that they had to walk, this one was much easier, but with a lot more branches and bushes in the way rather than steep inclines and poorly maintained trails that nobody used. It took time, but they were upon it. There, in the heart of the forest, was a small hilltop, and an evergreen tree sitting tall upon it.

"So this is the place that you wanted to take me? It doesn't seem all that special to me," Katrine said, ignorant of what made the place special.

"Do you remember the black dragon, Cynder, that came to the kingdom a while back?"

"Yes, I do. The news was hard to ignore."

"Notice how all of the newspapers never said what became of the dragon?" he asked rhetorically, trying to suppress a grin.

"Yeah, what happened to her? It seems that she dropped off the face of the world."

"That's her up there."

"What?!" Katrine was panicked at first, fearing that the ruthless black dragon that all of the papers talked about was lying right below that tree, waiting to strike. With curiosity, she slowly crept to the top of the hill to see that there was no dragon at all. "Then where is she then?"

["That tree, it's her. That is where the soul is."] Katrine gave him a funny look. ["I'll tell more about it later."] Bradan never knew, not even as long as he had been coming up here, that the dragon's soul was fully capable of listening, as well as giving replies, replies that fell on their deaf ears.

Cynder had been expecting Bradan to come up, as always, but what she hadn't been expecting was a second visitor. This visitor was a woman, close to Bradan in age as far as she could tell, and seemingly gentle in nature. _Perhaps a sibling, or a romantic partner?_ Cynder wondered. She listened to them speak and cocked her head, eyes narrowed. "And who is this...?" she murmured, more to herself than directly to them – they couldn't hear her, though the whole thing was less awkward when she pretended they could.

["Why don't you go introduce yourself to her, Kat?"]

["Are you sure it's safe?"]

["I come up here often. If it wasn't then I would probably be dead,"] Bradan said in a jovial tone. Katrine was not all that amused by the humor. ["She does not speak our language, so I will have to teach it to you magically. Look into my eyes and I will teach you."]

Katrine nervously obliged, looking into Bradan's golden eyes, him staring back into her ultramarine eyes. He began to work his magic, his eyes changing color to the sea-green as they did when he learned Cynder's langage. After a moment, it was over, and his eyes changed back to normal.

"Ta-da! Can you understand me?"

"S-such a strange language… the word order is messed up, and it sounds strange..." Just like Bradan, she too spoke English with a thick Butean accent. ["How do you know that she can hear you?"]

["I honestly don't. I like to think that there is the possibility that she can."]

["Why? Wouldn't it be awkward if someone found you here just talking to the tree?"]

["Because she has no other company. She could have been thrown in a cell somewhere, but instead, she got solitary confinement."]

["Oh… okay then."]

["Now go on, speak to her,"] Bradan beckoned to his spouse.

She did so reluctantly, stepping closer to the tree, kneeling down close to it. Little did she know, she came face to face with the dragon herself, her ultramarine eyes looking into Cynder's teal eyes, with about three or so feet separating them. "Umm... Hello there... I'm Katrine Arren, married to Bradan Llewellyn. You are Cynder, yes?" Her words were awkward when speaking, like talking to one's self, but not at the same time.

Cynder stared into Katrine's eyes and her lips curled into a small, amused smile. "Pleasure," she said. The way the Buteo introduced herself was strange – though no different from the way Bradan spoke; the dragoness had assumed it was just something odd he did to try to connect. _Do all Quillians speak to trees?_

Katrine turned back to Bradan for a moment. ["This is really... awkward, you know that right?"]

["Oh yeah, I know. You are the second person to ever socialize with her."]

["... Okay."] She turned back to where she had been before, again looking into Cynder's eyes. ["You know, this feels like something those strange druidic people do,"] Katrine said, tilting her head, directing more towards Bradan than the tree.

["Well, they say that Karnayna is one of the gods of nature, so talking to a tree might very well be something that he might like."]

That word, Karnayna. After Bradan had muttered that word, the air filled once again with that strange energy, similar to that when Astris made her ethereal flower for Cynder, and that day that her soul was ripped from her body.

Cynder twitched, glancing around. The energy that surrounded her made her feel as if her scales were coated in static, much like she would feel on Spyro after he used his electricity element. It left her mystified and wishing to know more about what caused this strange sensation. "What was that?" she whispered, hoping they would discuss further, perhaps causing it again.

["True, but I thought that he was more associated with animals than vegetation,"] Katrine said, turning her head towards Bradan, moving her left wing to be able to see him.

["Gods are mysterious beings. They could have domain over many things. Nya is the goddess of water, but also of healing as well."] Again, the mysterious energy filled the air, but somewhat altered from the one before. Instead of static, it was a cooling, soothing sensation, almost if Cynder were floating in a stream.

["Hmm, do you think that Karnayna would have domain over those aquatic animals, or would Nya?"] With both names spoken, both sensations were felt simultaneously, producing a very strange overall feeling that was hard to describe.

["I'd leave that one up to the mystics to decide. I'm just a follower... distantly, but a follower nonetheless."] Bradan paused, taking time to smell the fresh forest scent as a light gust of wind blew through the woods. ["Anyway, tell her about yourself."]

Cynder shifted her wings at the odd sensations, taking them in and trying to separate them as they both surrounded her at once. It was a fascinating feeling, the presence that simply speaking these words brought. As the feelings faded out, she turned her attention back to Katrine once more. She couldn't deny that she was at least a small bit interested.

Katrine turned her attention back to the tree and continued. ["Well, umm... I'm not all that sure of what to say. It's... different talking to a tree, no dragon, no... a dragon tree?"]

["You could tell her about what we are expecting soon."]

"True, true. We are expecting soon. We think sometime in February." Katrine lifted her shirt a bit to show a slightly bulging belly. "I'm gravid. It might take a couple more months before the egg comes, and a month or two longer for that egg to hatch." There were many questions Cynder wanted to ask, but Bradan was able to quickly interject.

"It's a strange quirk about our race. A mix of internal gestation followed by further development inside of an egg externally," he clarified, walking up and sitting down with his legs crossed next to Katrine.

Cynder tilted her head, eyes on Katrine's belly, and deep in thought. She had to admit, it was interesting the way these people experienced pregnancy. She'd never heard of anything exactly like it. Mammals like cheetahs and moles gave live birth, and dragons did lay eggs, just not quite in the same way. Her thoughts drifted to thoughts of this child – they would be brought into both a world of war and suffering, and a world of industrial prosperity. It would be an intriguing world to live in, for sure, but one Cynder knew all too well about.

She thought of her days as an overgrown hatchling, used as a war machine. She wished the Quillians could understand. Instead, they refused to back down. Now, all she could do was sympathize with this future hatchling, and worry about the ones back home. She hoped there would be no more child soldiers like her and Spyro. Her heart skipped a beat when she thought of him again.

It hurt to hear this news. At first, she had been intrigued – and though she would never admit it, excited for the couple – but now she was only left worrying again. The desire to leave, to fly away from the hilltop consumed her and she stood, tugging at the binding chain to no avail. A monstrous wail left her throat, wings expanding helplessly. She wondered if her distress filled the air with energy like the names of those deities had, and she hoped it did. Cynder wanted them to feel her anguish, her fear. She wanted them to _understand._

And just as she wished, it happened. For a moment, both avians had feathers all over them ruffled out briefly, and a chill ran up their spines. Both glanced at each other, bewildered at the simultaneous experience. Katrine though, she had a more panicked reaction.

["D-does that usually happen when you are here?"] Katrine asked, voice shaking from the unexplained sensation. The already nervous avian was already nervous to talk to Cynder as it was, but this occurrence was more than enough to turn her off to the idea of continuing.

["No... No, it does not. It's probably nothing though,"] Bradan answered, trying not to be spooked by the experience himself. ["Mind if I speak a bit?"]

["Sure, go ahead. I have nothing else to say"]

"For the bad news to you and your kind, the initial invasion force has made landfall. I know this is not the news that you want to hear, but I can say that your species made for great fighters. As of our last update, we have lost four hundred soldiers — some in the battle, some succumbing to their injuries. There were about one hundred soldiers at the fort at the time of the attack and comprised all different kinds of races. Only forty dragons were killed though; a ten-to-one ratio in your favor when it comes to killing. Maybe that bit of news will lighten the mood.

"In some other news, the War Department took over our operation as Magician's Guild, otherwise known as the alchemists, or the magic department. Thing is, I don't take orders from anyone else but myself when it comes to magical makings, so I left. I'm not having the War Department make me their bitch producing weapons. And I kind of have you to thank for that in some way."

Cynder laid down again, exhausted and breathing heavily. She listened to Bradan's news carefully. The losses were heavy on each side, and they weighed down her heart, but his words gave her hope. "We are good fighters. We just got out of a war, so there's no time to have gotten rusty."

The news of Bradan's departure from his job piqued Cynder's interest even more, though. She wondered what would become of this. If his magical knowledge wouldn't be used against the dragons, it could prove to be quite advantageous. And, perhaps somehow Bradan might come to understand her cause more. _And you have me to thank for that, huh?_ "Well... You're welcome. At least, if that's a good thing, that is."

She hoped she could continue to channel energy in the area, to let them know what she felt. She had no intention of frightening them, but she hoped they understood now. Unfortunately, manipulation of energy fields beyond compression was a much more difficult task than what her first and accidental taste of it was.

"Sadly though, I don't know how many others did. Right now, the military itself is in charge of powerful arcane forces that it has no knowledge or respect for. We facilitated weapons development, sure – more indirectly than directly - but not like they want us to. I was hoping that without my leadership, that other members would also leave, but results of that have yet to be seen. Perhaps they all left, but I probably won't know." He paused for a moment, giving time for his thoughts to formulate. The wind gusted again, sending late spring's sent in the air again. "I don't know where I'll go from here..."

Cynder tapped her claws on the ground. She wasn't sure how to respond to that - not that it mattered, of course. She just didn't know how to feel about any of it. "I... I hope the others left as well. I'm sure you know some things that they don't, though. Things the military can't use with you gone." She looked up into the sky, watching the clouds float by. So calm and peaceful. It hurt knowing that this peace would be short-lived, as she was certain that Bradan wouldn't have any good news for her the next time he visited.

["You'll be fine, sweetheart," Katrine interrupted. "We'll make it through this both you, I, and the one on the way."] She tried to reassure Bradan to the best of her abilities. As much as she hated how it consumed so much of his time, she could not deny him the fact that it was something that he loved and was proud of. Bradan turned his head and nodded at Katrine, then turned back to the tree.

"In terms of other news, there is something that you might not like to hear," Bradan said, attempting to keep a serious and somewhat somber tone while not trying to laugh at the absurdity of what it was.

Cynder let out an agitated growl. Of course, _more_ bad news. She shifted uncomfortably in her spot below the tree and huffed. "Out with it then," she murmured, narrowing her eyes at Bradan's odd behavior. _This better not be some sort of practical joke..._

"Some imbecile at the palace thought that your preserved and petrified body would make a great decoration in the foyer. It sits there, for now, adorned with illustrious jewelry and draped in fine linens; when restored, you'd look like royalty." He shook his head, chuckling at the absurdity of it all. "I blew up on them, telling them off about how reckless it was, regardless of ornamental value. It should be moved back into safe storage where it was to begin with. Fucking idiots, I swear..."

The dragoness' eyes widened and she let out a snort. It was pretty absurd. Although, she had to admit – the idea of looking like royalty intrigued her, and she wished she could see the statue, despite its morbid nature. It couldn't be much different from seeing the statue of her and Spyro in the temple. But Bradan was right. It was quite reckless indeed to leave her body out in the open where it could be damaged. She didn't want to enter her body again and find that she was missing a horn, or a paw, or something worse. Being separated from her body was nerve-racking at times, and hearing this, it was one of those times.

"Before they stow it away again, I might just get a good chunk of my salary to get some glass plates developed from it. I highly doubt that there will ever be an opportunity that it'll look like that ever again. When they are developed, I might just have to show them to you here." He looked over at Katrine, who was becoming more and more restless. "Do you want to say anything else, Kat?" She shook her head.

Both Buteos got off the grass and on their feet again. Katrine was the first to move but stopped at the bottom when Bradan didn't move. ["Come on, sweetheart,"] she beckoned to him. Instead, he remained.

["Just go on. I'll be on my way down in just a sec!"] he shouted back. Lucky for him, she did, walking slowly back to the normal trails. And with that, he was alone. With late-springs leaves acting as good enough sound dampening, he could do what he wanted to do. He knelt down on his left knee, his left hand firmly planted on the ground and grasping the grass, his right over his heart, and wings slightly unfurled. He closed his eyes and focused on his breathing. The sight was a strange one indeed, especially for Cynder who had little indication as to what he was doing. Only until he spoke did she understand what he was doing.

["Karnayna, Karnayna, the god of nature, the wild, of animals and the hunt, I call upon thee for the protection, not of me, but of this dragon's tree..."] He was evoking one of their gods. As he continued, the same feeling of the Mysterious Energy once again filled the air, intensifying as he continued his evocation.

The prayer's energy buzzed around Cynder's ears and she glanced around, expecting to see someone else there. The intensity of the energy made her breath hitch in fear and she dug her claws into the ground. What was he praying for? Was it... _for her? _And who was it that he was invoking? That Mysterious Energy would come when that word, or rather that name, Karnayna, was said. Would this being appear before her or would he be on a different plane that she could not see? She tried to relax as she got used to the energy, trying to sit up and straighten her posture.

["... forbid them from felling her tree, I evoke thee."] When he finished, Bradan snapped open his wing with a flair, sending a gust of wind out doing so. It wasn't necessary, but he had seen such action done before; it was for style.

Then, a flash of intense light met Cynder's eyes, forcing her to shut them tightly and cover them with her wings as all of the Mysterious Energy in the air concentrated in front of her. When the light diminished, she finally got to see what it was. In front of her stood a towering figure, facing towards Bradan. A Buteo, well over seven feet tall, with a sturdy muscular build. Its ordinary brown feathers and yellow avian scales had stains of both blood-red and vibrant green colors, some streaks faded with time. It wore little clothing aside from a tattered piece of clothing made from felt that mostly resembled a kilt.

There were other interesting articles on the figure. Adorning his head was a stag headdress that featured large antlers. A monstrous longbow was draped around its back, the drawstring threading the gap between its wings. At the waist was a belt quiver filled with fearsome arrows that were primitively formed, almost as if they were made only a few minutes ago. On the other side of the creature's waist, tied to the belt quiver's strap, were two separate felt pouches, one filled with an assortment of wild flora seeds, the other of bait for hunting and trapping.

The rather intimidating figure looked down at Bradan, the magician not even noticing the entity's presence, but for the black dragon, it was all too real. The figure gave a nod and turned to face the black dragon. At first, it looked at Cynder with confusion in its radiant, golden eyes, then shrugged. It began to slowly approach Cynder.

Cynder shrunk in on herself, making herself look small as she stared up at the deity with large eyes. A mix of curiosity, wonder, and a bit of fear swirled around in her chest as she tried to figure out if this was real. _A god... A real god. T-they do exist._She hadn't come to fully believe in deities, even after meeting the dryads, because the concept felt so foreign to her. Dragons had the Ancestors, but nothing like this. The closest thing they had to god was the Chronicler, but even his powers were limited. She decided to speak. "H-hello?"

The words he spoke were in the Butean language, yet she was able to understand them as if she spoke it herself, perhaps a product of its power. "How peculiar. It has been over a millennium since I've been invoked to protect a dragon," the entity said in a smooth baritone voice, slightly higher pitched than Terrador's. "I am Karnayna, Butean god of the wild. What is yours?" Despite the entity's intimidating looks, it was like a gentle giant.

"I'm Cynder. P-pleased to meet you," she answered cooly, straightening her posture once more as she realized he was friendly. She wondered if this was his 'true' form, or if it was one he chose simply to be comprehensible to Cynder, like the dryads. It was an interesting one, at least, she had to admit. The wave of awe had passed, and now she was simply curious. _Very_curious. Tons of questions filled her head until she could almost feel it spinning, but one stuck out to her the most. "You said it's been a millennium since you've protected a dragon?" She let the question out, her cool, collected composure slipping a bit as her excitement made its way to her voice.

"Hmm, yes. Dragons with an affinity to the wind at one point frequented these lands. They were nomadic in nature, preferring to stay mobile than stationary. Those that did settle down often intermingled with my worshipers, often to great success. Buteos would pray to me and the other gods for their protection and prosperity, and they reciprocated praying to _theirs_. Long ago this was, the last time this happened was a century before the _purple one_ came and wreaked havoc on these lands."

"Wait, so this is where the wind dragons came from? One of my elements is wind..." Cynder pondered what this meant for a moment. _Buteos and wind dragons lived in peace together... _"The Buteos must know that not all dragons are their enemy! Have they already forgotten that wind dragons were their friends? Or is that just another part of their biased and cherry-picked history they've chosen to leave out?" She gave a snort, eyes narrowing defiantly at Karnayna. He did not seem to be affected by it.

_I'm being stubborn._ Her thoughts forced her expression to soften, and she let her head hang, eyes staring at her silver claws, which glinted in the sun. The same claws used to kill Quillian civilians. She had, in simplest terms, committed a war crime. No matter how angry she was, no matter how absurd their reasoning for war seemed, her actions had done nothing but give fuel to the fire. She was beginning to understand that now, even if she didn't quite like the truth.

"I need to go home... I can't stay here like this, a prisoner of a war that never should have started. I came here to make peace, but instead I-" she paused to swallow the lump that was forming in her throat. "I only made things worse, a-and got myself trapped here. What do I do?" Her eyes, damp with the threat of tears, bore into the god's, clawing into them for answers.

The sharpness of her features and contempt in her voice was hard to miss, and it was much the same for her eyes. It wasn't hard to notice when the sharpness of her expressions softened, giving way to a defeated look. Karnayna could see she was thinking and feeling something, but was unsure of what it was. He could feel her emotions, but could not peer into her mind. Even his divine power had its limits. There was another entity that could peer into the thoughts of another being, but Karnayna knew that the pantheon of the dragons was completely different from the Buteo's. Belief empowered the gods, and Cynder was having a hard enough time believing in him; what would convince her to believe in the others? Cynder had said what she needed to say, and it gave time for Karnayna to formulate his response. The first part was easy enough to respond to.

"That was a long time ago, and those who befriended the Wind Dragons have since been forgotten to history. It's easier to hate than it is to love, and hatred among my devotees is deep-rooted. Wind Dragons had become few and far between when the purple one known as Malefor attacked the First Kingdom of Quillum all of those years ago and tainted the relationship between Buteos and Dragons, and there haven't been any wind dragons seen since to help heal that wound. The other encounters with dragons had happened when the Dark Army invaded the continent and ravaged the land, and when you came here..." the god trailed off. Cynder knew the details he omitted all-too-well. Karnayna had answered the dragon's first question, and he could tell that it was not the answer that the poor dragon was looking for. If anything, it only made the Cynder's situation worse.

The god let out a prolonged sigh. He sat down cross-legged in front of her, getting on an eye-to-eye level with the mortal before him. Only this time, he was fully able to carry on a conversation with Cynder, whereas Bradan and Katrine were unable to hear any of her replies or the thunderous wail she had let out earlier. Even at a distance respecting the dragon's personal space, there was a particular scent that came off the entity. It was an inviting, natural, earthy smell, notably that of sweet, summer rain – a calming scent. It was in her teal eyes that he could see her silent pleading, the pent-up emotions, and the flood of tears in her eyes being held back by a dam that was slowly beginning to crumble in front of him.

"I understand your emotions, and I will not judge you if you need to cry. The desire to return home, the anguish of being stuck here, the sorrow of separation, the utter hopelessness of it all. All I can say is to wait it out until the time of your release, which will come with time. And I hate to say this, but there is nothing much that I can do to help you out of here. My domain is the wild; I cannot manipulate souls like Edius can or how the Buteos have managed to emulate his power _again_. Even if I could, your body is still petrified by worldly magic back in their palace. However, there might be something that I can do to ease the pain."

A single tear rolled down the dragon's cheek, and she let her head hang. "I'm too tired to cry any more." Her voice came out dry and quiet, and she curled up into herself, shifting her wings in a way that was comfortable. "So, are you staying here?" Cynder spoke again, peering up into the eyes of the deity. She couldn't deny the extra company would be nice. At least she had some friends here in the forest. This whole thing honestly wouldn't be quite so bad were she not bound to her tree – a walk through the woods sounded wonderful then.

She raised her head as yet more thoughts swirled around in her mind. _Who did he say could manipulate souls...?_ "Edius!" she exclaimed as the name came to her. "He can manipulate souls! Can- can he help me? And what did you mean by 'the Buteos emulated his power _again_'?" She sat up a bit, the sudden flow of thought energizing her.

He admired her determination and her ability to find hope in small details. It was unfortunate that he had to crush those hopes. He shook his head. "If you wish to move on to the hereafter, yes. Edius was the god of souls but is now the god of the dead. He is the one that assists the deceased move on, lest they become restless and vengeful spirits. He had the power to do what you wish, but self-limited his power to only assist the dead." In a brief pause, he took the stag headdress of, letting the late-spring air flow through the feathers on his head. "The Buteos emulating his power though... that was an interesting time."

Cynder swallowed the lump in her throat and sighed. Her tail swept through the soft hilltop grass and she crossed her front paws, trying to regain a feeling of content. "Right... that would be the opposite of my goal. So, what's this about the Buteos emulating his power? It seems important."

"Indeed it was. Four thousand years ago, eight thousand years after the Lumenarian and Noctlian kingdoms merged to form what would become the First Kingdom of Quillum, there was an attempt by religious zealots to harness divine power for their own selfish interests and lust for power. They sought to emulate the power of Edius, as, like you have discovered yourself, a body without a soul is nothing but a lump of flesh and bones. Just like Bradan had rediscovered, they did it through the use of symbols.

"You see, symbols hold power, even if it seems as if they seem insignificant. The Queen at the time had caught word of these happenings and mobilized the army to end their scheming. The zealots were slain, but at the cost of Edius' reputation and the lives of may. Those affected by the zealots pinned the blame at him, thinking that it was him allowing for the actions to take place even though it was out of his control, and because of that, limited his own power and shifted priorities to where it is today."

Cynder wasn't sure what to say. The story left her awestruck. Not even the most powerful dragons could harness the skills of a god – even the Chronicler had very minimal interference in the mortal world. The thought actually scared her. What if the Quillians managed to find some other god whose powers they could manipulate for military use? With Bradan abandoning the magic department, he wouldn't have any control over the studies and magical advancements made, and the Quillian military could very well find ways to take magical matters into their own hands. She wished she could warn him of the possibility – surely he wouldn't want this to happen? Maybe he had already thought of it, though. "What if they do it again with another god? To use in the war?"

Karnayna shook his head and smiled reassuringly. "No. The deeply religious have been trying for thousands of years to grasp our power. There are millions of combinations of symbols and shapes that one could make in an attempt to emulate our power, but only a few combinations will work, and even then a working combination might not yield the power one might be after. The zealots and Bradan were merely lucky in finding a correct arrangement - the zealots through trial-and-error, and Bradan through seeing the patterns and making an educated guess."

This eased Cynder's worries. There was a very small chance they would find the correct combinations. However, she couldn't help but ask. "And if they do find the correct one?" Her voice was soft, she feared the answer.

"Then they would use Morrigan's power to ensure victory for every battle, no matter how much of a disadvantage they are in." It was one thing to manipulate souls with the re-created power of a god, but it was another to use a war god's power. If successful, the phrase 'one-man army' might not remain a phrase for long, but rather become a reality. It could very well tip the scales of war greatly into Quillum's favor if there was even a scale left afterward.

Cynder's tail twitched, and she gave him an _are you serious?_ look, before shaking her head. "Well, it's a good thing their chances of achieving this are low then – even better that Bradan has left the magic department. I doubt he'd help them do something like that anyway..." she said. She didn't necessarily like the guy, but she knew he wouldn't cheat to win this war. At least, she didn't think he would.

Karnayna nodded, confirming her thoughts. "It would take many years, maybe even a decade before they come close to finding it." The god stood back up, picking up the headdress and donning in once again. "Before I must return, I must ask: Do you care to take a walk? I cannot manipulate souls on Edius' level, but within my domain, I can to a certain limited extent. For a moment, we will go wherever you wish in these woods."

Cynder's eyes brightened, their sparkle returning for a moment and her head lifting. "I'd love to get away from this tree for a while. I don't know of anywhere specific I would like to go through; I've never really been here before." She stood, the grass between her claws feeling soft again as she nearly tore it out of the ground in her excitement. She wasn't even sure if she could do that in her spiritual form.

Karnayna focused, slowing his breath and closing his eyes. He held his right arm out and pointed it to the evergreen tree. The air again filled with the static feeling from before, building once again, this time to uncomfortable levels. Faced again with this torrent of energy, Cynder snapped her eyes shut in anticipation of what was to come. Then, as if the static was discharged, Cynder felt as if a bolt from the blue had struck her. Opening her eyes, she saw that instead of being bound to the tree, the silver cord that had connected her to it was now tied around Karnayna's wrist like a rope, or as uncanny as it was beginning to look, a leash. "As long as we stay in these woods, you can go anywhere. The royal park keepers have cut out some trails if you want to go there, or we can go wherever your feet wish to take you."

A new rush of excitement coursed through Cynder as she realized she'd finally get to leave the same spot she had been in for what had felt like forever. She hummed in thought, trying to decide which sounded more interesting. Finally, she made her choice. "Let's just explore. Maybe we can visit a less-traveled part of the forest." She didn't care where her paws took her now. She was just happy to stretch her legs and see new sights.

* * *

**Special thanks again to SatelliteBlues for assisting with dialogue in this chapter. It was a lot of fun! **

**Also special thanks to SKdaGamer for beta-reading this chapter. It was one hell of a time fixing all of the little mistakes, but it was well worth it!**

**First off, I'm sorry for taking so long to get a chapter out. After the craziness that was the 20k word chapter last time, I got a little burnt out on writing this story for a while. I have no plans on abandoning it, but it can be difficult to put words on the screen sometimes. Another reason was that I was not happy with the direction that I was taking the perspectives in the Dragon Realms, so I decided that I would take what I had typed for the Dragon Realms and move it to chapter 15, making it a Realms only chapter. **

**Some other news:  
I started a new story called The Year of the Forest (as you might have seen already) going into a first person account of Cynder's experience of her life in the forest. I'm really proud of how it turned out, and I look forward to working on it more as WTS evolves.  
I've also been working on some other short stories, changing up my writing to keep me interested, so keep an eye out for that when it gets published.**

**That's all I have to say for now. Until, next time, happy reading!**


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